THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

David  Freedman 


The  Observations  of  Henry 


iMiiv."  UK  iii;i'i.ii:ii   lo  mi;,   whikhi'  so  much  as  'I'I'km.nu 

A     I1\1K    ■■ 


The  Observations 
of  Henry 

By 

Jerome  K.  Jerome 


I 


New  York 

Dodd,  Mead  and  Company 
1901 


Copyright,  igoi. 
By  Dodd,  Mead  and  Company 

Copyright,  i8g8  and  igoo. 
By  Jerome  K.  Jerome 


UNIVBRSITY    PRESS    •    JOHN    WILSON 
AND    SON     •    CAMBRIDGE,    U.S.A. 


3^ 


^ 


Contents 


PAGE 

The  Observations  of  Henry     ....  3 

The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph  ...  41 

The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry      ...  75 

The  Probation  of  James  Wrench     .    .  109 

The  Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife     .  149 


846604 


Illustrations 


"''Enery,'  he  replied  to  me,  without   so 

much  as  turning  a  hair"      .    Frontispiece 


"'Why,  it's  'Enery'" 35 

"  He  was  on   the  floor,  packing   up    the 

silver" 64 

"  The  kid  was  sitting  up  in  the  hamper, 

yelling  the  roof  off " 102 

" '  We  're  not  fitted  for  one  another,'  says 

he" .     126 

"  She  flirted  every  bit  as  much  with  her 

other  customers  " 162 


The  Observations  of  Henry 


Observation^  of  Henry 


THIS  is  the  story,  among  others, 
of  Henry  the  waiter  —  or,  as  he 
now  prefers  to  call  himself,  Henri  —  told 
to  me  in  the  long  dining-room  of  the 
Riffel  Alp  Hotel,  where  I  once  stayed  for 
a  melancholy  week  "between  seasons," 
sharing  the  echoing  emptiness  of  the  place 
with  two  maiden  ladies,  who  talked  all 
day  to  one  another  in  frightened  whispers. 
Henry's  construction  I  have  discarded  for 
its  amateurishness;  his  method  being  gen- 
erally to  commence  a  story  at  the  end, 
and  then,  working  backwards  to  the  be- 
ginning, wind  up  with  the   middle.     But 


4         The  Observations  of  Henry 

in  all  other  respects  I  have  endeavoured 
to  retain  his  method,  which  was  individ- 
ual; and  this,  I  think,  is  the  story  as  he 
would  have  told  it  to  me  himself,  had  he 
told  it  in  this  order : 

My  first  place  —  well  to  be  honest,  it 
was  a  coffee-shop  in  the  Mile  End  Road 
—  I  'm  not  ashamed  of  it.  We  all  have 
our  beginnings,  "  Young  Kipper,"  as  we 
called  him  —  he  had  no  name  of  his  own, 
not  that  he  knew  of  anyhow,  and  that 
seemed  to  fit  him  down  to  the  ground  — 
had  fixed  his  pitch  just  outside,  between 
our  door  and  the  music  hall  at  the  cor- 
ner; and  sometimes,  when  I  might  hap- 
pen to  have  a  bit  on,  I  'd  get  a  paper  from 
him,  and  pay  him  for  it,  when  the  gov- 
ernor was  not  about,  with  a  mug  of  coffee, 
and  odds  and  ends  that  the  other  cus- 
tomers  had   left  on    their   plates — an  ar- 


The  Observations  of  Henry 


rangement  that  suited  both  of  us.  He 
was  just  about  as  sharp  as  they  make 
boys,  even  in  the  Mile  End  Road,  which 
is  saying  a  good  deal ;  and  now  and  then, 
spying  around  among  the  right  sort,  and 
keeping  his  ears  open,  he  would  put  me 
up  to  a  good  thing,  and  I  would  tip  him 
a  bob  or  a  tanner  as  the  case  might  be. 
He  was  the  sort  that  gets  on  —  you  know. 

One  day  in  he  walks,  for  all  the  world 
as  if  the  show  belonged  to  him,  with  a 
young  imp  of  a  girl  on  his  arm,  and  down 
they  sits  at  one  of  the  tables. 

"  Garsong,"  he  calls  out,  "  what 's  the 
menoo  to-day?" 

"The  menoo  to-day,"  I  says,  "is  that 
you  get  outside  'fore  I  clip  you  over  the  ear, 
and  that  you  take  that  back  and  put  it 
where  you  found  it ; "  meaning  o'  course, 
the  kid. 


6  The  Observations  of  Henry 

She  was  a  pretty  httle  thing,  even  then, 
in  spite  of  the  dirt,  with  those  eyes  like 
saucers,  and  red  hair.  It  used  to  be  called 
"  carrots "  in  those  days.  Now  all  the 
swells  have  taken  it  up  —  or  as  near  as 
they  can  get  to  it  —  and  it's  auburn. 

"'Enery,"  he  replied  to  me,  without  so 
much  as  turning  a  hair,  "  I  'm  afraid  you  're 
forgetting  your  position.  When  I  'm  on 
the  kerb  shouting  '  Speshul ! '  and  you  comes 
to  me  with  yer  'a'penny  in  yer  'and,  you  're 
master  an'  I  'm  man.  When  I  comes  into 
your  shop  to  order  refreshments,  and  to  pay 
for  'em,  I  'm  boss.  Savey  ?  You  can  bring 
me  a  rasher  and  two  eggs,  and  see  that 
they're  this  season's.  The  lidy  will  have  a 
full-sized  haddick  and  a  cocoa." 

Well,  there  was  justice  in  what  he  said. 
He  always  did  have  sense,  and  I  took  his 
order.     You  don't  often  see  anybody  put  it 


The  Observations  of  Henry  7 

away  like  that  girl  did.  I  took  it  she 
had  n't  had  a  square  meal  for  many  a  long 
day.  She  polished  off  a  ninepenny  haddick, 
skin  and  all,  and  after  that  she  had  two 
penny  rashers,  with  six  slices  of  bread  and 
butter  —  "  doorsteps,"  as  we  used  to  call 
them  —  and  two  half  pints  of  cocoa,  which 
is  a  meal  in  itself  the  way  we  used  to  make 
it.  "  Kipper  "  must  have  had  a  bit  of  luck 
that  day.  He  could  n't  have  urged  her  on 
more  had  it  been  a  free  feed. 

"  'Ave  an  egg,"  he  suggested,  the  moment 
the  rashers  had  disappeared.  "  One  of  these 
eggs  will  just  about  finish  yer." 

"  I  don't  really  think  as  I  can,"  says  she, 
after  considering  like. 

"Well,  you  know  your  own  strength," 
he  answers.     "  Perhaps   you  're  best  with- 
out it.     Speslmlly  if  yer  not  used  to  'igh 
ivmg. 


8         The  Observations  of  Henry 

I  was  glad  to  see  them  finish,  'cause  I 
was  beginning  to  get  a  bit  nervous  about 
the  coin,  but  he  paid  up  right  enough,  and 
giv  me  a  ha'penny  for  myself. 

That  was  the  first  time  I  ever  waited 
upon  those  two,  but  it  was  n't  to  be  the  last 
by  many  a  long  chalk,  as  you  '11  see.  He 
often  used  to  bring  her  in  after  that.  Who 
she  was  and  what  she  was  he  did  n't  know, 
and  she  did  n't  know,  so  there  was  a  pair 
of  them.  She  'd  run  away  from  an  old 
woman  down  Limehouse  way,  who  used  to 
beat  her.  That  was  all  she  could  tell  him. 
He  got  her  a  lodging  with  an  old  woman, 
who  had  an  attic  in  the  same  house  where 
he  slept  —  when  it  would  run  to  that  — 
taught  her  to  yell  "  Speshul !  "  and  found  a 
corner  for  her.  There  ain't  room  for  boys 
and  girls  in  the  Mile  End  Koad.  They're 
cither  kids  down  there  or  they're  grown- 


The  Observations  of  Henry  9 

ups.  "  Kipper  "  and  "  Carrots  "  —  as  we 
named  her  —  looked  upon  themselves  as 
sweethearts,  though  he  could  n't  have  been 
more  than  fifteen,  and  she  barely  twelve ; 
and  that  he  was  regular  gone  on  her  anyone 
could  see  with  half  an  eye.  Not  that  he 
was  soft  about  it  —  that  was  n't  his  style. 
He  kept  her  in  order,  and  she  had  just  to 
mind,  which  I  guess  was  a  good  thing  for 
her,  and  when  she  wanted  it  he  'd  use  his 
hand  on  her,  and  make  no  bones  about  it. 
That 's  the  way  among  that  class.  They  up 
and  give  the  old  woman  a  friendly  clump, 
just  as  you  or  me  would  swear  at  the  mis- 
sus, or  fling  a  boot-jack  at  her.  They  don't 
mean  anything  more. 

I  left  the  coffee-shop  later  on  for  a  place 
in  the  city,  and  saw  nothing  more  of  them 
for  five  years.  When  I  did  it  was  at  a 
restaurant  in  Oxford  Street  —  one  of  those 


lo       The  Observations  of  Henry 

amatoor  shows  run  by  a  lot  of  women, 
who  know  nothing  about  the  business,  and 
spend  the  whole  day  gossiping  and  flirting 
— "  love-shops,"  I  call  'em.  There  was 
a  yellow-haired  lady  manageress  who 
never  heard  you  when  you  spoke  to  her, 
'cause  she  was  always  trying  to  hear  what 
some  seedy  old  fool  would  be  whis- 
pering to  her  across  the  counter.  Then 
there  were  waitresses,  and  their  notion 
of  waiting  was  to  spend  an  hour  talking 
to  a  two-penny  cup  of  coffee,  and  to  look 
haughty  and  insulted  whenever  anybody 
as  really  wanted  something  ventured 
to  ask  for  it.  A  frizzle-haired  cashier 
used  to  make  love  all  day  out  of  her 
pigeon-hole  witli  tlie  two  box-office  boys 
from  the  Oxford  Music  Hall,  who  took 
it  turn  and  turn  about.  Sometimes  she  'd 
leave  off  to  take  a  customer's  money,  and 


The  Observations  of  Henry        1 1 


sometimes   she   would  n't.      I  've    been   to 
some  rummy  places   in  my  time ;    and  a 
waiter  ain't  the  blind  owl  as  he 's  supposed 
to    be.      But    never    in   my   life    have   I 
seen    so    much    love-making,    not   all    at 
once,  as  used  to  go  on  in  that  place.     It 
was  a  dismal,   gloomy  sort   of   hole,    and 
spoony  couples  seemed  to  scent  it  out  by 
instinct,    and    would    spend    hours    there 
over    a    pot   of   tea   and   assorted   pastry. 
"  Idyllic/'  some  folks  would  have  thought 
so  :  I  used  to  get  the  fair  dismals  watching 
it.     There  was  one  girl — a  weird-looking 
creature,    with   red    eyes   and    long    thin 
hands,   that  gave  you   the  creeps  to  look 
at.     She  'd  come  in  regular  with  her  young 
man,  a  pale-faced  nervous  sort  of  chap,  at 
three  o'clock  every  afternoon.     Theirs  was 
the    funniest    love-making    I    ever    saw. 
She  'd  pinch  him  under  the  table,  and  run 


1 2       The  Observations  of  Henry- 


pins  into  him,  and  he  'd  sit  with  his  eyes 
glued  on  her  as  if  she  'd  been  a  staaming 
dish  of  steak  and  onions,  and  he  a  starving 
beggar  the  other  side  of  the  window.  A 
strange  story  that  was  —  as  I  came  to 
learn  it  later  on.  I  '11  tell  you  that,  one 
day. 

I  'd  been  engaged  for  the  "  heavy  work," 
but  as  the  heaviest  order  I  ever  heard 
given  there  was  for  a  cold  ham  and 
chicken,  which  I  had  to  slip  out  for  to 
the  nearest  cook-shop,  I  must  have  been 
chiefly  useful  from  an  ornamental  point 
of  view. 

I'd  been  there  about  a  fortnight,  and 
was  feeling  pretty  sick  of  it,  when  in 
walked  young  "Kipper."  I  didn't  know 
him  at  first,  he  'd  changed  so.  He  was 
swinging  a  silver-mounted  crutch  stick, 
which  was  the  kind  tliat  was  fasliionable 


The  Observations  of  Henry       i  3 

just  then,  and  was  dressed  in  a  showy 
check  suit  and  a  white  hat.  But  the  thing 
that  struck  me  most  was  his  gloves.  I 
suppose  I  hadn't  improved  quite  so  much 
myself  for  he  knew  me  in  a  moment,  and 
held  out  his  hand. 

"  What,  'Enery  !  "  he  says,  "  you  've 
moved   on,    then !  " 

"  Yes,"  I  says  shaking  hands  with  him, 
"  and  I  could  move  on  again  from  this 
shop  without  feeling  sad.  But  you  've 
got   on   a   bit  ? "     I   says. 

"  So-so,"    he  says,    "  I  'm  a  journalist." 

«0h,"  I  says,  "what  sort?"  for  I'd 
seen  a  good  many  of  that  lot  during  six 
months  I'd  spent  at  a  house  in  Fleet 
Street,  and  their  get-up  had  n't  sump- 
tuousness  about  it,  so  to  speak.  Kipper's 
rig-out  must  have  totted  up  to  a  tidy 
little  sum.     He  had  a  diamond  pin  in  his 


14       The  Observations  of  Henry 

tie  that  must  have  cost  somebody  fifty 
quid,   if   not   him. 

"  Well/'  he  answers,  "  I  don't  wind  out 
the  confidential  advice  to  old  Beaky,  and 
that  sort  of  thing.  I  do  the  tips,  yer 
know.     '  Cap'n  Kit,'  that 's  my  name." 

"  What,  the  Captain  Kit  ?  "  I  says.  0' 
course  I'd  heard  of  liim. 

"  Be'old  !  "  he  says. 

"  Oh,  it 's  easy  enough,"  he  goes  on. 
"  Some  of  'em 's  bound  to  come  out  right, 
and  when  one  does,  you  take  it  from 
me,  our  paper  mentions  the  fact.  And 
when  it  is  a  wrong  'un  —  well,  a  man 
can't  always  be  shouting  about  himself, 
can  e  : 

He  ordered  a  cup  of  coffee.  He  said  he 
was  waiting  for  someone,  and  we  got  to 
chatting  about  old  times, 

"How's  Carrots?"  I  asked. 


The  Observations  of  Henry        i  5 

"  Miss  Caroline  Trevelyan,"  lie  answered, 
"  is  doing  well." 

"  Oh,"  I  says,  "  you  've  found  out  her 
fam'ly  name,  then  ?  " 

"  We  've  found  out  one  or  two  things 
about  that  lidy,"  he  replies.  "  D'  yer 
remember   'er   dancing  ?  " 

"  I  have  seen  her  flinging  her  petticoats 
about  outside  the  shop,  when  the  copper 
wasn't  by,  if  that's  what  you  mean,"  I 
says. 

"  That 's  what  I  mean,"  he  answers. 
^^  That 's  all  the  rage  now,  '  skirt-dancing ' 
they  calls  it.  She  's  a-coming  out  at  the 
Oxford  to-morrow.  It's  'er  I'm  waiting 
for.  She 's  a-coming  on,  I  tell  you  she 
is,"    he   says. 

*'  Shouldn't  wonder,"  says  I;  "that  was 
her  disposition." 

"  And     there 's    another     thing     we  've 


1 6       The  Observations  of  Henry 

found  out  about  'er,"  he  says.  He  leant 
over  the  table,  and  whispered  it,  as  if  he 
was  afraid  that  anybody  else  might  hear : 
"  she  's  got  a  voice." 

"  Yes,"  I  says,  "  some  women  have." 

*'  Ah,"  he  says,  "  but  'er  voice  is  the 
sort   of   voice   yer   want   to   listen   to." 

"  Oh,"  I  says,  "  that 's  its  speciality, 
is   it?" 

"That's  it,   sonny,"    he  replies. 

She  came  in  a  little  later.  I  'd  'a'  known 
her  anywhere  for  her  eyes,  and  her  red 
hair,  in  spite  of  her  being  that  clean  you 
might  have  eaten  your  dinner  out  of  her 
hand.  And  as  for  her  clothes !  Well, 
I  've  mixed  a  good  deal  with  the  toffs  in 
my  time,  and  I  've  seen  duchesses  dressed 
more  showily  and  maybe  more  expen- 
sively, but  her  clothes  seemed  to  be  just 
a  framework   to   show  her  up.     She  was 


The  Observations  of  Henry       1 7 

a  beauty,  you  can  take  it  from  me ;  and 
it's  not  to  be  wondered  that  the  La- 
De-Das  were  round  her  when  they  did 
see  her,  like  flies  round  an  open  jam 
tart. 

Before  three  months  were  up  she  was 
the  rage  of  London  —  leastways  of  the 
music-hall  part  of  it  —  with  her  portrait 
in  all  the  shop  windows,  and  interviews 
with  her  in  half  the  newspapers.  It  seems 
she  was  the  daughter  of  an  officer  who 
had  died  in  India  when  she  was  a  baby, 
and  the  niece  of  a  bishop  somewhere  in 
Australia.  He  was  dead  too.  There 
didn't  seem  to  be  any  of  her  ancestry 
as  wasn't  dead,  but  they  had  all  been 
swells.  She  had  been  educated  privately, 
she  had,  by  a  relative;  and  had  early 
displayed  an  aptitude  for  dancing,  though 
her  friends  at  first  had  much  opposed  her 


1 8       The  Observations  of  Henry 

going  upon  the  stage.  There  was  a  lot 
more  of  it  —  you  know  the  sort  of  thing. 
Of  course,  she  was  a  connection  of  one  of 
our  best  known  judges  —  they  all  are  — 
and  she  merely  acted  in  order  to  support 
a  grandmother,  or  an  invalid  sister,  I  for- 
get wliich.  A  wonderful  talent  for  swal- 
lowing, these  newspaper  chaps  has,  some 
of  'em ! 

"  Kipper  "  never  touched  a  penny  of  her 
money,  but  if  he  had  been  her  agent  at 
twenty-five  per  cent,  he  could  n't  have 
worked  harder,  and  he  just  kept  up  the 
hum  about  her,  till  if  you  did  n't  want 
to  hear  anything  more  about  Caroline 
Trevelyan,  your  only  chance  would  have 
been  to  lie  in  bed,  and  never  look  at  a 
newspaper.  It  was  Caroline  Trevelyan  at 
Home,  Caroline  Trevelyan  at  Brighton, 
Caroline     Trevelyan     and     the     Shah    of 


The  Observations  of  Henry        19 

Persia,  Caroline  Trevelyan  and  the  Old 
Apple- woman.  When  it  wasn't  Caroline 
Trevelyan  herself  it  would  be  Caroline 
Trevelyan's  dog  as  would  be  doing  some- 
thing out  of  the  common,  getting  himself 
lost  or  summoned  or  drowned  —  it  didn't 
matter  much  what. 

I  moved  from  Oxford  Street  to  the  new 
"  Horseshoe  "  that  year  —  it  had  just  been 
rebuilt  —  and  there  I  saw  a  good  deal  of 
them,  for  they  came  in  to  lunch  there  or 
supper  pretty  regular.  Young  "  Kipper  " 
—  or  the  "Captain"  as  everybody  called 
him  —  gave  out  that  he  was  her  half- 
brother. 

"  I  'ad  to  be  some  sort  of  a  relation,  you 
see,"  he  explained  to  me.  "  I  'd  'a'  been 
'er  brother  out  and  out;  that  would  have 
been  simpler,  only  the  family  likeness 
was  n't    strong    enough.       Our    styles     o' 


20       The  Observations  of  Henry- 
beauty    aiii't    similar."       They    certainly 
was  n't. 

"Why  don't  you  marry  her?"  I  says, 
"  and  have  done  with  it  ?  " 

He  looked  thoughtful  at  that.  "  I  did 
think  of  it,"  he  says,  "and  I  know,  jolly 
well,  that  if  I  'ad  suggested  it  'fore  she  'd 
found  herself,  she'd  have  agreed,  but  it 
don't  seem  quite  fair  now." 

"  How  d'  ye  mean  fair  ?  "  I  says. 

"  Well,  not  fair  to  'er,"  he  says.  "  I  've 
got  on  all  right,  in  a  small  way ;  but  she 
—  well,  she  can  just  'ave  'er  pick  of  the 
nobs.  There's  one  on  'em  as  I've  made 
inquiries  about.  'E'll  be  a  dook,  if  a  kid 
pegs  out  as  is  expected  to,  and  anyhow 
'e  '11  be  a  markis,  and  'e  means  the 
straight  thing  —  no  errer.  It  ahi't  fair 
for  me  to  stand  in  'er  way." 

"  Well,"  I  says,  "  you   know  your  own 


The  Observations  of  Henry       2 1 

business,  but  it  seems  to  me  she  would  n't 
have  much  way  to  stand  in  if  it  had  n't 
been  for  you." 

"  Oh,  that 's  all  right,"  he  says.  "  I  'm 
fond  enough  of  the  gell,  but  I  shan't 
clamour  for  a  tombstone  with  wiolets, 
even  if  she  ain't  ever  Mrs.  Capt'n  Kit. 
Business  is  business  ;  and  I  ain't  going  to 
queer  'er  pitch  for  'er." 

I  've  often  wondered  what  she  'd  'a'  said, 
if  he  'd  up  and  put  the  case  to  her  plain, 
for  she  was  a  good  sort;  but,  naturally 
enough,  her  head  was  a  bit  swelled,  and 
she  'd  read  so  much  rot  about  herself  in 
the  papers  that  she'd  got  at  last  to  half 
believe  some  of  it.  The  thought  of  her 
connection  with  the  well-known  judge 
seemed  to  hamper  her  at  times,  and  she 
wasn't  quite  so  chummy  with  "Kipper" 
as   used  to  be  the  case  in  the  Mile   End 


2  2       The  Observations  of  Henry 

Road  days,  and  he  was  n't  the  sort  as  is 
slow  to  see  a  thing. 

One  day  when  he  was  having  lunch  by 
himself,  and  I  was  waiting  on  him,  he 
says,  raising  his  glass  to  his  lips,  "  Well, 
'Enery,  here 's  luck  to  yer !  I  won't  be 
seeing  you  agen  for  some  time." 

"  Oh,"  I  says.     "  What 's  up  now  ?  " 

"I  am,"  he  says,  ^'or  rather  my  time 
is.     I  'm  off  to  Africa." 

"  Oh,"  I  says,  "  and  what  about " 

"  That 's  all  right,"  he  interrupts. 
"  I  've  fixed  up  that  —  a  treat.  Truth, 
that 's  why  I  'm  going." 

I  thouglit  at  first  he  meant  she  was 
going  with  him. 

"  No,"  he  says,  "  she  's  going  to  be  the 
Duchess  of  Ridiuii-sliirc  with  the  kind 
consent  o'  the  kid  1  spoke  about.  If  not, 
sh(!  '11    he   the   Marchioness   of   Appleford. 


The  Observations  of  Henry       23 


'E  's  doing  the  square  thing.  There 's 
going  to  be  a  quiet  marriage  to-morrow 
at  the  Registry  Office,  and  then  I  'm  off." 

"  What  need  for  you  to  go  ?  "  I  says. 

"  No  need,"  he  says  ;  "  it 's  a  fancy  o' 
mine.  You  see,  me  gone,  there  's  nothing 
to  'amper  'er  —  nothing  to  interfere  with 
'er  setthng  down  as  a  quiet,  respectable 
toff.  With  a  'alf-brother,  who 's  always 
got  to  be  spry  with  some  fake  about  'is 
lineage  and  'is  ancestral  estates,  and  who 
drops  'is  'h's,'  complications  are  sooner 
or  later  bound  to  a-rise.  Me  out  of  it 
—  everything  's  simple.     Savey  ? "" 

Well,  that  's  just  how  it  happened.  Of 
course,  there  was  a  big  row  when  the 
family  heard  of  it,  and  a  smart  lawyer 
was  put  up  to  try  and  undo  the  thing. 
No  expense  was  spared,  you  bet ;  but  it 
was   all  no  go.     Nothing  could  be  found 


24       The  Observations  of  Henry 

out  against  her.  She  just  sat  tight  and 
said  nothing.  So  the  thing  had  to  stand. 
They  went  and  lived  quietly  in  the  country 
and  abroad  for  a  year  or  two,  and  then 
folks  forgot  a  bit,  and  they  came  back 
to  London.  I  often  used  to  see  her  name 
in  print,  and  then  the  papers  always  said 
as  how  she  was  charming  and  graceful 
and  beautiful,  so  I  suppose  the  family  had 
made  up  its  mind  to  get  used  to  her. 

One  evening  in  she  comes  to  the  Savoy. 
My  wife  put  me  up  to  getting  that  job, 
and  a  good  job  it  is,  mind  you,  when 
you  know  your  way  about.  I  'd  never 
have  had  the  cheek  to  try  for  it,  if  it 
had  n't  been  for  the  missis.  She 's  a  clever 
one  —  she  is.  I  did  a  good  day's  work 
when  I  married  her. 

"  You  shave  off  that  moustache  of  yours 
—  it  ain't  an  ornament,"  she  says  to  me, 


The  Observations  of  Henry       25 

"  and  chance  it.  Don't  get  attempting  the 
lingo.  Keep  to  the  broken  English,  and 
put  m  a  shrug  or  two.  You  can  manage 
that  all  right." 

I  followed  her  tip.  Of  course  the  man- 
ager saw  through  me,  but  I  got  in  a 
"  Oui,  monsieur "  now  and  again,  and 
they,  being  short  handed  at  the  time, 
could  not  afford  to  be  strict,  I  suppose. 
Anyhow  I  got  took  on,  and  there  I  stopped 
for  the  whole  season,  and  that  was  the 
making  of  me. 

Well,  as  I  was  saying,  in  she  comes  to 
the  supper  rooms,  and  toffy  enough  she 
looked  in  her  diamonds  and  furs,  and  as 
for  haughtiness  there  wasn't  a  born 
Marchioness  she  could  n't  have  given 
points  to.  She  comes  straight  up  to  my 
table  and  sits  down.  Her  husband  was 
with    her,   but   he  didn't    seem   to    have 


26        The  Observations  of  Henry 

much  to  say,  except  to  repeat  her  orders. 
Of  course  I  looked  as  if  I  'd  never  set 
eyes  on  her  before  in  all  my  life,  though 
all  the  time  she  was  a-pecking  at  the 
mayonnaise  and  a-snipping  at  the  Giessler, 
I  was  thinking  of  the  coffee-shop  and  of 
the  ninepenny  haddick  and  the  pint  of 
cocoa. 

"  Go  and  fetch  my  cloak,"  she  says  to 
him  after  a  while.     ''  I  am  cold." 

And  up  he  gets  and  goes  out. 

She  never  moved  her  head,  and  spoke 
as  though  she  was  merely  giving  me 
some  order,  and  I  stands  behind  her 
chair,  respectful  like,  and  answers  ac- 
cording   to    the    same    tip. 

"  Ever  hear  from  ^  Kipper  '  ?  "  she  says 
to  me. 

"  1  have  had  one  or  two  letters  from 
him,  your  ladysliip,"   I  answers. 


The  Observations  of  Henry       27 

"Oh,  stow  that,"  she  says.  "I  am 
sick  of  '  your  ladyship.'  Talk  English ; 
I  don't  hear  much  of  it.  How  's  he  get- 
ting on  ?  " 

"Seems  to  be  doing  himself  well,"  I 
says.  "  He 's  started  an  hotel,  and  is 
regular    raking    it    in,    he    tells    me." 

"  Wish  I  was  behind  the  bar  with 
him  !  "    says    she. 

"Why,  don't  it  work  then?"     I  asks. 

"  It 's  just  like  a  funeral  with  the  corpse 
left  out,"  says  she.  "  Serves  me  jolly  well 
right  for  being  a  fool !  " 

The  Marquis,  he  comes  back  with  her 
cloak  at  that  moment,  and  I  says :  "  Cer- 
tainement,  madame,"  and  gets  clear. 

I  often  used  to  see  her  there,  and  when 
a  chance  occurred  she  would  talk  to  me. 
It  seemed  to  be  a  relief  to  her  to  use 
her   own    tongue,   but   it   made    me    ner- 


28       The  Observations  of  Henry 

vous  at  times  for  fear  someone  would 
hear  her. 

Then  one  day  I  got  a  letter  from 
"  Kipper "  to  say  he  was  over  for  a 
holiday  and  was  stopping  at  Morley's, 
and    asking   me   to   look   him   up. 

He  had  not  changed  much  except  to 
get  a  bit  fatter  and  more  prosperous- 
looking.  Of  course,  we  talked  about 
her  ladyship,  and  I  told  him  what  she 
said. 

"  Rum  things,  women,"  he  says  ;  "  never 
know  their  own  minds." 

"  Oh,  they  know  them  all  right  when 
they  get  there,"  I  says.  "  How  could 
she  tell  what  being  a  Marchioness  was 
like   till   she'd   tried   it?" 

"  Pity,"  he  says,  musing  like.  "  I 
reckoned  it  tlie  very  thing  she  'd  tumble 
to.     I   only  come  over  to   get  a  sight  of 


The  Observations  of  Henry       29 

'er,  and  to  satisfy  myself  as  she  was  get- 
ting along  all  right.  Seems  I  'd  better 
V    stopped   away." 

"You  ain't  ever  thought  of  marrying 
yourself?"  I  asks. 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  he  says.  "  It 's  slow 
for  a  man  over  thirty  with  no  wife  and 
kids  to  bustle  him,  you  take  it  from  me, 
and  I  am't  the  talent  for  the  Don  Juan 
fake." 

"You're  like  me,"  I  says,  "a  day's 
work,  and  then  a  pipe  by  your  OAvn  fire- 
side with  your  slippers  on.  That's  my 
swarry.  You'll  find  someone  as  will  suit 
you  before  long." 

"No,  I  shan't,"  says  he.  "I've  come 
across  a  few  as  might,  if  it  'ad  n't  been 
for  'er.  It's  like  the  toffs  as  come  out  our 
way.  They've  been  brought  up  on  *ris 
de  veau  a  la  financier,'  and  sich  like,  and 


30       The  Observations  of  Henry 

it  just  spoils  'em  for  the  bacon  and 
greens." 

I  give  her  the  office  the  next  time 
I  see  her,  and  they  met  accidental  like 
in  Kensington  Gardens  early  one  morning. 
What  they  said  to  one  another  I  don't 
know,  for  he  sailed  that  same  evening, 
and,  it  being  the  end  of  the  season,  I 
didn't  see  her  ladyship  again  for  a  long 
while. 

When  I  did  it  was  at  the  Hotel  Bristol 
in  Paris,  and  she  was  in  widow's  weeds, 
the  Marquis  having  died  eight  months 
before.  He  never  dropped  into  that  duke- 
dom, the  kid  turning  out  healthier  than 
was  expected,  and  hanging  on;  so  she 
was  still  only  a  Marchioness,  and  her 
fortune,  though  tidy,  was  nothing  very 
big  —  not  as  tliat  class  reckons.  By  luck 
I  was  told  off  to  wait  on  her,  she  having 


The  Observations  of  Henry       3  i 

asked  for  someone  as  could  speak  English. 
She  seemed  glad  to  see  me  and  to  talk  to 
me. 

"Well,"  I  says,  "I  suppose  you'll  be 
bossing  that  bar  in  Capetown  now  before 
long  ?  " 

"Talk  sense,"  she  answers.  "How  can 
the  Marchioness  of  Appleford  marry  a 
hotel  keeper  ?  " 

"Why  not,"  I  says,  "if  she  fancies  him? 
What's  the  good  of  being  a  Marchioness 
if  you  can't  do  what  you  like?" 

"  That 's  just  it,"  she  snaps  out ;  "  you 
can't.  It  would  not  be  doing  the  straight 
thing  by  the  family.  No,"  she  says, 
"  I  've  spent  their  money,  and  I  'm  spend- 
ing it  now.  They  don't  love  me,  but 
they  shan't  say  as  I  have  disgraced  them. 
They've  got  their  feelings  —  same  as 
I  've  got  mine." 


32        The  Observations  of  Henry 

"Why  not  chuck  the  money?"  I  says. 
"  They  'U  be  glad  enough  to  get  it  back," 
they  being  a  poor  lot,  as  I  heard  her  say. 

"  How  can  I  ?  "  she  says.  "  It 's  a  life 
interest.  As  long  as  I  live  I've  got  to 
have  it,  and  as  long  as  I  live  I  've  got  to 
remain  the  Marchioness  of  Appleford." 

She  finishes  her  soup,  and  pushes  the 
plate  away  from  her.  "As  long  as  I 
live,"  she  says,  talking  to  herself. 

**By  Jove!"  she  says,  starting  up, 
"why  not?" 

Why  not  what?"  I  says. 
Nothing,"  she  answers.     "Get  me  an 
African    telegraph    form,    and    be    quick 
about  it ! " 

I  fetched  it  for  her,  and  she  wrote  it 
and  gave  it  to  the  porter  then  and  there; 
and,  that  done,  she  sat  down  and  finished 
hor  dinner. 


The  Observations  of  Henry       33 

She  was  a  bit  short  with  me  after  that ; 
so  I  judged  it  best  to  keep  my  own  place. 

In  the  morning  she  got  an  answer  that 
seemed  to  excite  her,  and  that  afternoon 
she  left ;  and  the  next  I  heard  of  her  was 
a  paragraph  in  the  newspaper,  headed  — 
"Death  of  the  Marchioness  of  Appleford. 
Sad  accident."  I  seemed  she  had  gone  for 
a  row  on  one  of  the  Italian  lakes  with  no 
one  but  a  boatman.  A  squall  had  come  on, 
and  the  boat  had  capsized.  The  boatman 
had  swum  ashore,  but  he  had  been  unable 
to  save  his  passenger,  and  her  body  had 
never  been  recovered.  The  paper  reminded 
its  readers  that  she  had  formerly  been  the 
celebrated  tragic  actress,  Caroline  Trevel- 
yan,  daughter  of  the  well-known  Indian 
judge  of  that  name. 

It  gave  me  the  blues  for  a  day  or  two  — 

that  bit  of  news.     I  had  known  her  from  a 

3 


34       The  Observations  of  Henry 

baby  as  you  might  say,  and  had  taken  an 
interest  in  her.  You  can  call  it  silly,  but 
hotels  and  restaurants  seemed  to  me  less 
interesting  now  there  was  no  chance  of  ever 
seeing  her  come  into  one  again. 

I  went  from  Paris  to  one  of  the  smaller 
hotels  in  Venice.  The  missis  thought  I  'd 
do  well  to  pick  up  a  bit  of  Italian,  and  per- 
haps she  fancied  Venice  for  herself.  That 's 
one  of  the  advantages  of  our  profession. 
You  can  go  about.  It  was  a  second-rate 
sort  of  place,  and  one  evening,  just  before 
Ughting-up  time,  I  had  the  salle-a-manager 
all  to  myself,  and  had  just  taken  up  a  paper, 
when  I  hears  the  door  open,  and  I  turns 
round. 

I  saw  "her"  coming  down  the  room. 
There  was  no  mistaking  her.  She  was  n't 
that  sort. 

I  sat  with  my  eyes  coming  out  of  my 


W  UV,     11    6,      h..NKKT. 


The  Observations  of  Henry        35 

head   till   she  was  close  to  me,  and  then 
I  says: 

"  Carrots ! "  I  says,  in  a  whisper  like. 
That  was  the  name  that  come  to  me. 

" '  Carrots '  it  is,"  she  says,  and  down 
she  sits  just  opposite  to  me,  and  then  she 
laughs. 

I  could  not  speak,  I  could  not  move,  I 
was  that  took  aback,  and  the  more  fright- 
ened I  looked  the  more  she  laughed  till 
"  Kipper "  comes  into  the  room.  There 
was  nothing  ghostly  about  hun.  I  never 
see  a  man  look  more  as  if  he  had  backed 
the  winner. 

''Why,  it's  'Enery,"  he  says;  and  he 
gives  me  a  slap  on  the  back,  as  knocks  the 
life  into  me  again. 

"  I  heard  you  was  dead,"  I  says,  still 
staring  at  her.  "  I  read  it  in  the  paper  — 
*  Death  of  the  Marchioness  of  Appleford.'  " 


36       The  Observations  of  Henry 

"That's  all  right,"  she  says.  ''The 
Marchioness  of  Appleford  is  as  dead  as  a 
door-nail,  and  a  good  job  too.  Mrs.  Cap- 
tain Kit 's  my  name,  nee  '  Carrots.'  " 

"  You  said  as  'ow  I  'd  find  someone  to 
suit  me  'fore  long,"  says  "  Kipper  "  to  me, 
"  and,  by  Jove  !  you  were  right ;  I  'ave.  I 
was  waiting  till  I  found  something  equal  to 
her  ladyship,  and  I  'd  'ave  'ad  to  wait  a  long 
time,  I  'm  thinking,  if  I  'ad  n't  come  across 
this  one  'ere  "  ;  and  he  tucks  her  up  under 
his  arm  just  as  I  remember  his  doing  that 
day  he  first  brought  her  into  the  coffee-shop, 
and  Lord,  what  a  long  time  ago  that  was  ! 

That  is  the  story,  among  others,  told  me 
by  Henry,  the  waiter.  I  have,  at  his  re- 
quest, substituted  artificial  names  for  real 
ones.  For  Henry  tells  me  that  at  Capeto^vn 
Captain  Kit's  First-class  Family  and  Com- 


The  Observations  of  Henry       37 

mercial  Hotel  still  runs,  and  that  the  land- 
lady is  still  a  beautiful  woman  with  fine 
eyes  and  red  hair,  who  might  almost  be 
taken  for  a  duchess  —  until  she  opens 
her  mouth,  when  her  accent  is  found  to 
be  still  slightly  reminiscent  of  the  Mile 
End  Road. 


The  Uses  and  Abuses 
of  yoseph 


The  Usey  and  Ahuyey 
of  Joseph 

"  "W'T  is  just  the  same  with  what  you 
I  may  call  the  human  joints,"  observed 
Henry.  He  was  in  one  of  his  philo- 
sophic moods  that  evening.  "It  all  de- 
pends upon  the  cooking.  I  never  see  a 
youngster  hanging  up  in  the  refrigerator, 
as  one  may  put  it,  but  I  says  to  myself: 
'  Now  I  wonder  what  the  cook  is  going  to 
make  of  you !  Will  you  be  minced  and 
devilled  and  fricasseed  till  you  are  all 
sauce  and  no  meat?  Will  you  be  ham- 
mered tender  and  grilled  over  a  slow  fire 
till  you  are  a  blessing  to  mankind?  Or 
will  you  be  spoilt  in  the  boiling,  and  come 
out  a  stringy  rag,  an  immediate  curse,  and 


42     The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph 

a  permanent  injnry  to  those  who  have  got 
to  swallow  you  ? ' 

"  There  was  a  youngster  I  knew  in  my 
old  coffee-shop  days,"  contmued  Henry, 
"  that  in  the  end  came  to  be  eaten  by 
cannibals.  At  least,  so  the  newspapers 
said.  Speaking  for  myself,  I  never  be- 
lieved the  report:  he  wasn't  that  sort. 
If  anybody  was  eaten,  it  was  more  likely 
the  cannibal.  But  that  is  neither  here 
nor  there.  What  I  am  thinkmg  of  is 
what  happened  before  he  and  the  canni- 
bals ever  got  nigh  to  one  another.  He 
was  fourteen  when  I  first  set  eyes  on  him 
—  Mile  End  fourteen,  that  is ;  which  is 
the  same,  I  take  it,  as  City  eighteen  and 
West  End  five-and-twenty  —  and  he  was 
smart  for  his  age  into  the  bargain  :  a  trifle 
too  smart  as  a  matter  of  fact.  He  always 
came  into  the  shop  at  the   same   time  — 


The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph     43 

half -past  two;  he  always  sat  in  the  seat 
next  the  window;  and  three  days  out  of 
six,  he  would  order  the  same  dinner:  a 
fourpenny  beef-steak  pudding  —  we  called 
it  beef-steak,  and,  for  all  practical  pur- 
poses, it  was  beef-steak  —  a  penny  plate 
of  potatoes,  and  a  penny  slice  of  roly-poly 
pudding  —  '  chest  expander '  was  the  name 
our  customers  gave  it  —  to  follow.  That 
showed  sense,  I  always  thought,  that  din- 
ner alone ;  a  more  satisfying  menu,  at  the 
price,  I  defy  any  human  being  to  work 
out.  He  always  had  a  book  with  him, 
and  he  generally  read  during  his  meal ; 
which  is  not  a  bad  plan  if  you  don't  want 
to  think  too  much  about  what  you  are 
eating.  There  was  a  seedy  chap,  I  re- 
member, used  to  dine  at  a  cheap  restaurant 
where  I  once  served,  just  off  the  Euston 
Road.     He  would  stick  a  book  up  in  front 


44     The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph 

of  him  —  Eppy  something  or  other  —  and 
read  the  whole  time.  Our  four-course 
shilHng  table  d'hote  with  Eppy,  he  would 
say,  was  a  banquet  fit  for  a  prince; 
without  Eppy  he  was  of  opmion  that  a 
policeman  wouldn't  touch  it.  But  he 
was  one  of  those  men  that  rej)ort  things 
for  the  newspapers,  and  was  given  to 
exaggeration. 

"  A  coffee-shop  becomes  a  bit  of  a  desert 
towards  three  o'clock;  and,  after  a  while, 
young  Tidelman,  for  that  was  his  name, 
got  to  puttmg  down  his  book  and  chatting 
to  me.  His  father  was  dead ;  which,  judg- 
ing from  what  he  told  me  about  the  old 
man,  must  have  been  a  bit  of  luck  for 
everybody ;  and  his  mother,  it  turned  out, 
had  come  from  my  own  village  in  Suffolk ; 
and  that  constituted  a  sort  of  bond  between 
us,   seeing   I   had    known   all    her   people 


The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph     45 

pretty  intimately.  He  was  earning  good 
money  at  a  dairy,  where  his  work  was 
scouring  milk-cans ;  and  his  Christian 
name  —  which  was  the  only  thing  Chris- 
tian about  him,  and  that,  somehow  or 
another,  did  n't  seem  to  fit  him  —  was 
Joseph. 

"  One  afternoon  he  came  into  the  shop 
looking  as  if  he  had  lost  a  shilling  and 
found  sixpence,  as  the  saying  is ;  and  in- 
stead of  drinking  water  as  usual,  sent  the 
girl  out  for  a  pint  of  ale.  The  moment  it 
came  he  drank  off  half  of  it  at  a  gulp,  and 
then  sat  staring  out  of  the  window. 

"'What's  up?'  I  says.  *Got  the 
shove  ? ' 

"  *  Yes,'  he  answers  ;  '  but,  as  it  happens, 
it 's  a  shove  up.  I  've  been  taken  off  the 
yard  and  put  on  the  walk,  with  a  rise  of 
two  bob  a  week.'     Then  he  took  another 


46     The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph 


pull  at  the  beer  and  looked  more  savage 
than  ever. 

"'Well,'  I  says,  Hhat  ain't  the  sort  of 
thing  to  be  humpy  about.' 

"  *  Yes,  it  is,'  he  snaps  back ;  '  it  means 
that  if  I  don't  take  precious  good  care 
I'll  drift  into  being  a  blooming  milkman, 
spending  my  life  yelling  "  Milk  alioi ! "  and 
spooning  smutty-faced  servant-gals  across 
area  railings.' 

"  '  Oh  ! '  I  says,  '  and  what  may  you 
prefer  to  spoon  —  duchesses  ?  ' 

"  *  Yes,'  he  answers  sulkj^-like  ;  '  duch- 
esses are  right  enough  —  some  of  'em.' 

"  ^  So  are  servant-gals,'  I  says,  '  some 
of  'em.  Your  hat 's  feeling  a  bit  small  for 
you  this  morning,  ain't  it  ? ' 

" '  Hat 's  all  right,'  says  he  ;  '  it 's  the 
world  as  I  'm  com})laining  of  —  beastly 
place ;  there 's  nothing  to  do  in  it.' 


The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph     47 

"  '  Oil ! '  I  says  ;  *  some  of  us  find  there  's 
a  bit  too  much.'  I'd  been  up  since  five 
that  morning  myself;  and  his  own  work, 
which  was  scouring  milk-cans  for  twelve 
hours  a  day,  did  n't  strike  me  as  suggesting 
a  life  of  leisured  ease. 

"  '  I  don't  mean  that,'  he  says.  '  I  mean 
things  worth  doing.' 

*' '  Well,  what  do  you  want  to  do,' 
I  says,  'that  this  world  ain't  big  enough 
for?' 

" '  It  ain't  the  size  of  it,'  he  says  ;  '  it 's 
the  dulness  of  it.  Things  used  to  be 
different  in  the  old  days.' 

" '  How  do  you  know  ?  '  I  says. 

"  *  You  can  read  about  it/  he  answers. 

" '  Oh,'  I  says,  '  and  what  do  they  know 
about  it  —  these  gents  that  sit  down  and 
write  about  it  for  their  living !  You  show 
me  a  book  cracking  up  the  old  times,  writ 


48     The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph 

by  a  chap  as  lived  in  'em,  and  I'll  be- 
lieve you.  Till  then  I  '11  stick  to  my 
opinion  that  the  old  days  were  much 
the  same  as  these  days,  and  maybe  a 
trifle  worse.' 

"  ^  From  a  Sunday  School  point  of  view, 
perhaps  yes,'  says  he  j  '  but  there 's  no 
gainsaying ' 

"  '  No  what  ?  '  I  says. 

"  *  No  gainsaying,'  repeats  he ;  ^  it 's  a 
common  word  in  literatoor.' 

" '  Maybe,'  says  I,  '  but  this  happens  to 
be  "  The  Blue  Posts  Coffee-House,"  estab- 
Hshed  in  the  year  1863.  We  will  use 
modern  English  here,  if  you  don't  mind.' 
One  had  to  take  him  down  like  that  at 
times.  He  was  the  sort  of  bov  as  would 
talk  poetry  to  you  if  you  were  n't  firm  with 
him. 

" '  Well   then,   there 's   no   denying    the 


The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph     49 


fact/  says  he,  'if  you  prefer  it  that  way, 
that  in  the  old  days  there  was  more  oppor- 
tunity for  adventure.' 

"  '  What  about  Austraha  ?  '  says  I. 

"  *  Australia ! '  retorts  he ;  '  what  would 
I  do  there  ?  Be  a  shepherd,  like  you 
see  in  the  picture,  wear  ribbons,  and  play 
the  flute  ? ' 

" '  There 's  not  much  of  that  sort  of 
shepherding  over  there,'  says  I,  '  unless 
I  've  been  deceived ;  but  if  Australia  ain't 
sufficiently  uncivilised  for  you,  what  about 
Africa  ? ' 

" '  What 's  the  good  of  Africa  ?  '  replies 
he;  'you  don't  read  advertisements  in 
the  "  Clerkenwell  News  :  "  "  Young  men 
wanted  as  explorers."  I  'd  drift  into  a 
barber's  shop  at  Cape  Town  more  likely 
than  anything   else.' 

" '  What  about   the  gold   diggings  ? '     I 


50     The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph 


suggests.  I  Uke  to  see  a  youngster  with 
the  spirit  of  adventure  in  him.  It  shows 
grit  as  a  rule. 

"  '  Played  out/  says  he.  '  You  are  em- 
ployed by  a  company,  wages  ten  dollars 
a  week,  and  a  pension  for  your  old  age. 
Everything's  played  out,'  he  continues. 
'  Men  ain't  wanted  nowadays.  There 's 
only  room  for  clerks,  and  intelligent 
artisans,    and    shopboys.' 

"  '  Go  for  a  soldier,'  says  I ;  ^  there  's 
excitement   for   you.' 

" '  That  would  have  been  all  right,' 
says  he,  '  in  the  days  when  there  was 
real   fighting.' 

"  '  There 's  a  good  bit  of  it  going  about 
nowadays,'  I  says.  '  We  are  generally  at 
it,  on  and  off,  between  shouting  about 
the    blessings    of    peace.' 

"*Not    the    sort   of   figliting    T    mean,' 


The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph      5  i 

repHes  he ;  '  I  want  to  do  something  my- 
self, not  be  one  of  a  row.' 

"  ^  Well/  I  says,  '  I  give  you  up. 
You  've  dropped  into  the  wrong  world  it 
seems  to  me.  We  don't  seem  able  to 
cater   for   you   here.' 

"  ^  I  've  come  a  bit  too  late,'  he  answers ; 
*  that 's  the  mistake  I  've  made.  Two 
hundred  years  ago  there  were  lots  of 
things    a    fellow    might    have    done.* 

" '  Yes,  I  know  what 's  in  your  mind,' 
I   says :  '  pirates.' 

" '  Yes,  pirates  would  be  all  right,'  says 
he ;  '  they  got  plenty  of  sea-air  and  exer- 
cise, and  did  n't  need  to  join  a  blooming 
funeral  club.' 

" '  You  've  got  ideas  above  your  station,' 
I  says.  '  You  work  hard,  and  one  day 
you  '11  have  a  milk-shop  of  your  own, 
and  be  walking  out  with  a  pretty  house- 


52     The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph 

maid  on  your  arm,  feeling  as  if  you  were 
the  Prmce  of  Wales  himself.' 

"  *  Stow  it ! '  he  says ;  '  it  makes  me 
shiver  for  fear  it  might  come  true.  I'm 
not  cut  out  for  a  respectable  cove,  and 
I  won't  be  one  neither,  if  I  can  help 
it!' 

" '  Wliat  do  you  mean  to  be,  then  ? ' 
I  says ;  '  we  *ve  all  got  to  be  something, 
until  we  're  stiff  'uns.' 

" '  Well,'  he  says,  quite  cool-like,  *  I 
think   I   shall   be    a   burglar.' 

"  I  dropped  into  the  seat  opposite  and 
stared  at  him.  If  any  other  lad  had  said 
it  I  should  have  known  it  was  only 
foolishness,  but  he  was  just  the  sort  to 
mean    it. 

"'It's  the  only  calling  I  can  think 
of,'  says  he,  Hliat  has  got  any  element 
of   excitement    left    in    it.' 


The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph      53 

" '  You  call  seven  years  at  Portland 
"excitement,"  do  you?' says  I,  thinking 
of  the  argument  most  likely  to  tell  upon 
him. 

"  ^  What 's  the  difference,'  answers  he, 
'  between  Portland  and  the  ordinary 
labouring  man's  life,  except  that  at  Port- 
land you  never  need  fear  being  out  of 
work  ? '  He  was  a  rare  one  to  argue. 
*  Besides,'  says  he,  ^  it 's  only  the  fools 
as  gets  copped.  Look  at  that  diamond 
robbery  in  Bond  Street,  two  years  ago. 
Fifty  thousand  pounds'  worth  of  jewels 
stolen,  and  never  a  clue  to  this  day ! 
Look  at  the  Dublin  Bank  robbery,'  says 
he,  his  eyes  all  alight,  and  his  face  flushed 
like  a  girl's.  *  Three  thousand  pounds 
in  golden  sovereigns  walked  away  with 
in  broad  daylight,  and  never  so  much  as 
the   flick   of  a  coat-tail   seen.     Those   are 


54     The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph 

the  sort  of  men  I  'm  thinking  of,  not  the 
bricklayer  out  of  work,  who  smashes  a 
window  and  gets  ten  years  for  breaking 
open  a  cheesemonger's  till  with  nine  and 
fourpence  ha'penny  in  it.' 

"  *  Yes/  says  I,  ^  and  are  you  forgetting 
the  chap  who  was  nabbed  at  Birmingham 
only  last  week?  He  wasn't  exactly  an 
amatoor.  How  long  do  you  think  he'll 
get?' 

"  ^  A  man  like  that  deserves  what  he 
gets/  answers  he ;  ^  could  n't  hit  a  police- 
man at  six  yards.' 

"  ^  You  bloodthirsty  young  scoundrel/  I 
says ;  '  do  you  mean  you  would  n't  stick  at 
murder  ? ' 

"  ^  It 's  all  in  the  game/  says  he,  not  in 
the  least  put  out.  ^I  take  my  risks,  he 
takes  his.  It's  no  more  murder  than 
soldiering  is.' 


The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph      ^^ 

" '  It 's  taking  a  human  creature's  hfe,'  I 
says. 

"  '  Well/  he  says,  '  what  of  it  ?  There  's 
plenty  more  where  he  comes  from.' 

"  I  tried  reasoning  with  him  from  time 
to  time,  but  he  was  n't  a  sort  of  boy  to  be 
moved  from  a  purpose.  His  mother  was 
the  only  argument  that  had  any  weight 
with  him.  I  believe  so  long  as  she 
had  lived  he  would  have  kept  straight ; 
that  was  the  only  soft  spot  in  him.  But 
unfortunately  she  died  a  couple  of  years 
later,  and  then  I  lost  sight  of  Joe 
altogether.  I  made  enquiries,  but  no  one 
could  tell  me  anything.  He  had  just 
disappeared,  that's  all. 

"  One  afternoon,  four  years  later,  I 
was  sitting  in  the  coffee-room  of  a  City 
restaurant  where  I  was  working,  reading 
the  account  of  a  clever  robbery  committed 


56     The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph 

the  day  before.  The  thief,  described  as  a 
well-dressed  young  man  of  gentlemanly 
appearance,  wearuig  a  short  black  beard 
and  moustache,  had  walked  into  a  branch 
of  the  London  and  Westminster  Bank 
during  the  dinner-hour,  when  only  the 
manager  and  one  clerk  were  there.  He 
had  gone  straight  through  to  the  manager's 
room  at  the  back  of  the  bank,  taken  the 
key  from  the  inside  of  the  door,  and 
before  the  man  could  get  round  his  desk 
had  locked  him  in.  The  clerk,  with  a 
knife  to  his  throat,  had  then  been  persuaded 
to  empty  all  the  loose  cash  in  the  bank, 
amounting  in  gold  and  notes  to  nearly 
five  hundred  pounds,  into  a  bag  which  the 
thief  had  thoughtfully  brought  with  him. 
After  which,  both  of  them  —  for  the  thief 
seems  to  have  been  of  a  sociable  disposi- 
tion—  got  into  a  cal)  which  was  waiting 


The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph      57 

outside,  and  drove  away.  They  drove 
straight  to  the  City:  the  clerk,  with  a 
knife  pricking  the  back  of  his  neck  all  the 
time,  finding  it,  no  doubt,  a  tiresome  ride. 
In  the  middle  of  Threadneedle  Street,  the 
gentlemanly  young  man  suddenly'  stopped 
the  cab  and  got  out,  leaving  the  clerk  to 
pay  the  cabman. 

"  Somehow  or  other,  the  story  brought 
back  Joseph  to  my  mind.  I  seemed  to 
see  him  as  that  well-dressed  gentlemanly 
young  man;  and,  raising  my  eyes  from 
the  paper,  there  he  stood  before  me.  He 
had  scarcely  changed  at  all  since  I  last 
saw  him,  except  that  he  had  grown  better 
looking,  and  seemed  more  cheerful.  He 
nodded  to  me  as  though  we  had  parted  the 
day  before,  and  ordered  a  chop  and  a  small 
hock.  I  spread  a  fresh  serviette  for  him, 
and  asked  him  if  he  cared  to  see  the  paper. 


58     The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph 

"  '  Anything  interesting  in  it,  Henry  ? ' 
says  he. 

"  ^  Rather  a  daring  robbery  committed 
on  the  Westminster  Bank  yesterday,'  I 
answers. 

" '  Oh,  ah !  I  did  see  something  about 
that,'  says  he. 

" '  The  thief  was  described  as  a  well- 
dressed  young  man  of  gentlemanly  appear- 
ance, wearing  a  black  beard  and  moustache,' 
says  I. 

"  He  laughs  pleasantly. 

" '  That  will  make  it  awkward  for  nice 
young  men  with  black  beards  and  mous- 
taches,' says  he. 

" '  Yes,'  I  says.  '  Fortunately  for  you 
and  me,  we  're  clean  shaved.' 

"  I  felt  as  certain  he  was  the  man  as 
though  I'd  seen  liiiii  do  it. 

"  He   gives  me   a   sharp  glance,   but   I 


The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph      59 

was  busy  with  the  cruets,  and  he  had  to 
make  what  he  chose  out  of  it. 

"  ^  Yes,'  he  repUes,  '  as  you  say,  it  was 
a  daring  robbery.  But  the  man  seems  to 
have  got  away  all  right.' 

"  I  could  see  he  was  dying  to  talk  to 
somebody  about  it. 

"  ^  He  's  all  right  to-day,'  says  I ;  '  but 
the  police  ain't  the  fools  they  're  reckoned. 
I've  noticed  they  generally  get  there  in 
the  end.' 

"  '  There 's  some  very  intelligent  men 
among  them,'  says  he  :  'no  question  of  it. 
I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  they  had  a 
clue ! ' 

"  *  No,'  I  says,  '  no  more  should  I ; 
though  no  doubt  he  's  telling  himself  there 
never  was  such  a  clever  thief.' 

"  '  Well,  we  shall  see,'  says  he. 

" '  That 's  about  it,'  says  I. 


6o     The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph 

"  We  talked  a  bit  about  old  acquaint- 
ances and  other  things,  and  then,  having 
finished,  he  handed  me  a  sovereign  and 
rose  to  go. 

" '  Wait  a  minute,'  I  says,  '  your  bill 
comes  to  three-and-eight.  Say  fourpence 
for  the  waiter  ;  that  leaves  sixteen  shillings 
change,  which  I  '11  ask  you  to  put  in  your 
pocket.' 

"  *  As  you  will,'  he  says,  laughing,  though 
I  could  see  he  did  n't  like  it. 

" '  And  one  other  thing,'  says  I.  *  We've 
been  sort  of  pals,  and  it 's  not  my  business 
to  talk  unless  I  'm  spoken  to.  But  I  'm  a 
married  man,'  I  says,  '  and  I  don't  con- 
sider you  the  sort  worth  getting  into 
trouble  for.  If  I  never  see  you,  I  know 
nothing  about  you.     Understand  ?  ' 

"  He  took  my  tip,  and  1  did  n't  see  him 
again  at  thcit  restaurant.     I  kcjit  my  eye 


The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph      6 1 

on  the  paper,  but  the  Westminster  Bank 
thief  was  never  discovered,  and  success, 
no  doubt,  gave  him  confidence.  Anyhow, 
I  read  of  two  or  three  burglaries  that 
winter  which  I  unhesitatingly  put  down 
to  Mr.  Joseph  —  I  suppose  there 's  style  in 
housebreaking,  as  in  other  things  —  and 
early  the  next  spring  an  exciting  bit 
of  business  occurred,  which  I  knew  to 
be  his  work  by  the  description  of  the 
man. 

"  He  had  broken  into  a  big  country 
house  during  the  servants'  supper-hour, 
and  had  stuffed  his  pockets  with  jewels. 
One  of  the  guests,  a  young  officer,  coming 
upstairs,  interrupted  him  just  as  he  had 
finished.  Joseph  threatened  the  man  with 
his  revolver;  but  this  time  it  was  not  a 
nervous  young  clerk  he  had  to  deal  with. 
The  man  sprang  at  him,  and  a  desperate 


62     The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph 

struggle  followed,  with  the  result  that  in 
the  end  the  officer  was  left  with  a  bullet 
in  his  leg,  while  Joseph  jumped  clean 
through  the  window,  and  fell  thirty  feet. 
Cut  and  bleeding,  if  not  broken,  he  would 
never  have  got  away  but  that,  fortunately 
for  him,  a  tradesman's  cart  happened  to 
be  standing  at  the  servants'  entrance.  Joe 
was  in  it,  and  off  like  a  flash  of  greased 
lightning.  How  he  managed  to  escape, 
with  all  the  country  in  an  uproar,  I  can't 
tell  you;  but  he  did  it.  The  horse  and 
cart,  when  found  sixteen  miles  off,  were 
neither  worth  much. 

"  That,  it  seems,  sobered  him  down  for 
a  Ijit,  and  nobody  heard  any  more  of  him 
till  nine  months  later,  when  he  walked 
into  the  Monico,  where  I  was  then  work- 
ing, and  held  out  his  hand  to  me  as  bold 
as  brass. 


The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph      63 

"  ^  It 's  all  right/  says  he,  ^  it 's  the  hand 
of  an  honest  man.' 

"  '  It 's  come  into  j^our  possession  very 
recently  then/  says  I. 

"  He  was  dressed  in  a  black  frock-coat 
and  wore  whiskers.  If  I  had  n't  known 
him,  I  should  have  put  him  down  for  a 
parson  out  of  work. 

"  He  laughs.  '  I  '11  tell  you  all  about  it,' 
he  says. 

"  ^  Not  here,'  I  answers,  '  because  I  'm 
too  busy ;  but  if  you  like  to  meet  me  this 
evening,  and  you  're  talking  straight ' 

"  ^  Straight  as  a  bullet/  says  he.  *  Come 
and  have  a  bit  of  dinner  with  me  at  the 
Craven  ;  it 's  quiet  there,  and  we  can  talk. 
I've  been  looking  for  you  for  the  last 
week.' 

"  Well,  I  met  him  ;  and  he  told  me.  It 
was  the  old  story :  a  gal  was  at  the  bottom 


64     The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph 

of  it.  He  had  broken  mto  a  small  house 
at  Hampstead.  He  was  on  the  floor,  pack- 
ing up  the  silver,  when  the  door  opens, 
and  he  sees  a  gal  standing  there.  She 
held  a  candle  in  one  hand  and  a  revolver 
in  the  other. 

"  ^  Put  your  hands  up  above  your  head,' 
says  she. 

"  ^  I  looked  at  the  revolver,'  said  Joe, 
telling  me ;  '  it  was  about  eighteen  inches 
off  my  nose ;  and  then  I  looked  at  the  gal. 
There  's  lots  of  'em  will  threaten  to  blow 
your  brains  out  for  you,  but  you've  only 
got  to  look  at  'em  to  know  they  won't. 

" '  They  are  thinking  of  the  coroner's 
inquest,  and  wondering  how  the  judge  will 
sum  up.  She  met  my  eyes,  and  I  held  up 
my  hands.  If  I  had  n't  I  would  n't  have 
been  here. 

"  *  Now  you  go  in  front,'  says  she  to  Joe, 


Ill:    WAS    ON     IIIK    Kl.OOl!,     1-A(  K1N(;     II'     TIIK    S1I.\  Ki: 


The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph     65 

and  he  went.  She  laid  her  candle  down  in 
the  hall  and  unbolted  the  front  door. 

"  ^  What  are  you  going  to  do  ? '  says  Joe, 
'  call  the  police  ?  Because  if  so,  my  dear, 
I  '11  take  my  chance  of  that  revolver  being 
loaded  and  of  your  pulling  the  trigger 
in  time.  It  will  be  a  more  dignified 
ending.' 

"  ^  No,'  says  she,  '  I  had  a  brother  that 
got  seven  years  for  forgery.  I  don't  want 
to  think  of  another  face  like  his  when  he 
came  out.  I'm  going  to  see  you  outside 
my  master's  house,  and  that's  all  I  care 
about.' 

"She  went  down  the  garden-path  with 
him,  and  opened  the  gate. 

"  ^  You   turn   round,'    says    she,    '  before 

you  reach  the  bottom  of  the  lane  and  I  give 

the  alarm.'     And  Joe  went  straight,  and 

didn't  look  behind  him. 

5 


66     The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph 

"  Well,  it  was  a  rum  beginning  to  a  court- 
ship, but  the  end  was  rummer.  The  girl 
was  wilhng  to  marry  him  if  he  would  turn 
honest.  Joe  wanted  to  turn  honest,  but 
didn't  know  how. 

"  *  It 's  no  use  fixing  me  down,  my  dear, 
to  any  quiet,  respectable  calling,'  says  Joe 
to  the  gal,  'because,  even  if  the  police 
would  let  me  alone,  I  would  n't  be  able  to 
stop  there.  I  'd  break  out,  sooner  or  later, 
try  as  I  might.' 

"The  girl  went  to  her  master,  who 
seems  to  have  been  an  odd  sort  of  a 
cove,  and  told  him  the  whole  story.  The 
old  gent  said  he  'd  see  Joe,  and  Joe  called 
on  him. 

"  *  What 's  your  religion  ? '  says  the  old 
gent  to  Joe. 

"  '  I  'm  not  particular,  sir ;  T  '11  leave  it 
to  you,'  says  Joe. 


The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph      67 

" '  Good  ! '  says  the  old  gent.  '  You  're  no 
fanatic.     What  are  your  principles  ?  ' 

"  At  first  Joe  did  n't  think  he  'd  got  any, 
but,  the  old  gent  leading,  he  found  to  his 
surprise  as  he  had. 

"^I  believe,'  says  Joe,  'in  doing  a  job 
thoroughly.' 

"  '^  What  your  hand  finds  to  do,  you 
believe  in  doing  with  all  your  might,  eh  ? ' 
says  the  old  gent. 

"'That's  it,  sir,'  says  Joe.  'That's 
what  I  've  always  tried  to  do.' 

"  '  Anything  else  ?  '  asks  the  old  gent. 

"  '  Yes  ;  stick  to  your  pals,'  said  Joe. 

"  '  Through  thick  and  thin,'  suggests  the 
old  gent. 

"  '  To  the  blooming  end,'  agrees  Joe. 

" '  That 's  right,'  says  the  old  gent. 
'  Faithful  unto  death.  And  you  really 
want  to   turn  over   a   new   leaf  —  to   put 


68     The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph 

your  wits  and  your  energy  and  your 
courage  to  good  use  instead  of  bad  ? ' 

" '  That 's  the  idea/  says  Joe. 

"  The  old  gent  murmurs  something  to 
himself  about  a  stone  which  the  builders 
would  n't  have  at  any  price ;  and  then  he 
turns  and  puts  it  straight : 

"  ^  If  you  undertake  the  work/  says  he, 
'  you  '11  go  through  with  it  without  faltering 
—  you  '11  devote  your  life  to  it  ? ' 

"  af  I  undertake  the  job,  I  '11  do  that,' 
says  Joe.     '  What  may  it  be  ? ' 

" '  To  go  to  Africa,'  says  the  old  gent, 
'as  a  missionary.' 

"Joe  sits  down  and  stares  at  the  old 
gent,  and  the  old  gent  looks  him  back. 

"  *  It 's  a  dangerous  station/  says  the 
old  gent.  '  Two  of  our  people  have  lost 
their  lives  there.  It  wants  a  man  there  — 
a    man   who   will    do    something    Ijesides 


The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph     69 

preach,  who  will  save  these  poor  people 
we  have  gathered  together  there  from 
being  scattered  and  lost,  who  will  be  their 
champion,  their  protector,  their  friend.' 

"In  the  end,  Joe  took  on  the  job, 
and  went  out  with  his  wife.  A  better 
missionary  that  Society  never  had  and 
never  wanted.  I  read  one  of  his  early 
reports  home ;  and  if  the  others  were 
anything  like  it  his  life  must  have  been 
exciting  enough,  even  for  him.  His  station 
was  a  small  island  of  civilisation,  as  one 
may  say,  in  the  middle  of  a  sea  of 
savages.  Before  he  had  been  there  a 
month  the  place  had  been  attacked  twice. 
On  the  first  occasion  Joe's  ^ flock'  had 
crowded  into  the  Mission  House,  and 
commenced  to  pray,  that  having  been  the 
plan  of  defence  adopted  by  his  prede- 
cessor.     Joe   cut   the    prayer    short,   and 


JO     The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph 

preached  to  them  from  the  text,  '  Heaven 
helps  them  as  helps  themselves ' ;  after 
which  he  proceeded  to  deal  out  axes 
and  old  rifles.  In  his  report  he  men- 
tioned that  he  had  taken  a  hand  himself, 
merely  as  an  example  to  the  flock ;  I 
bet  he  had  never  enjoyed  an  evening 
more  in  all  his  life.  The  second  fight 
began,  as  usual,  round  the  Mission, 
but  seems  to  have  ended  two  miles  off. 
In  less  than  six  months  he  had  rebuilt  the 
school-house,  organised  a  police  force, 
converted  all  that  was  left  of  one  tribe, 
and  started  a  tin  church.  He  added  (but 
I  don't  think  they  read  that  part  of  his 
report  aloud)  that  law  and  order  was 
going  to  be  respected,  and  life  and  prop- 
erty secure  in  liis  district  so  long  as 
he  had  a  bullet  left. 

"  Later   on   the   Society  sent    him   still 


The  Uses  and  Abuses  of  Joseph      71 

further  inland,  to  open  up  a  fresh  station ; 
and  there  it  was  that,  according  to  the 
newspapers,  the  cannibals  got  hold  of 
him  and  ate  him.  As  I  said,  personally 
I  don't  believe  it.  One  of  these  days 
he'll  turn  up,  sound  and  whole;  he  is 
that  sort." 


"The  Surprise  of  Mr. 
Milberry 


The  Surprise  of  Mr. 
Milberry 


r 


T  'S  not  the  sort  of  thing  to  tell  'em," 
remarked  Henry,  as,  with  his  nap- 
kin over  his  arm,  he  leant  against  one  of 
the  pillars  of  the  verandah,  and  sipped  the 
glass  of  Burgundy  I  had  poured  out  for 
him ;  "  and  they  would  n't  believe  it  if 
you  did  tell  'em,  not  one  of  'em.  But  it 's 
the  truth,  for  all  that.  Without  the 
clothes  they  couldn't  do  it." 

"  Who  would  n't  believe  what  ?  "  I  asked. 
He  had  a  curious  habit,  had  Henry,  of 
commenting  aloud  upon  his  own  unspoken 
thoughts,  thereby  bestowing  upon  his  con- 
versation much  of  the  quality  of  the  double 
acrostic.      We    had    been    discussing    the 


76     The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry 

question  whether  sardines  served  their 
purpose  better  as  a  hors  d'oeuvre  or  as  a 
savoury ;  and  I  found  myself  wondering 
for  the  moment  why  sardines,  above  all 
other  fish,  should  be  of  an  unbelieving 
nature;  while  endeavouring  to  picture  to 
myself  the  costume  best  adapted  to  dis- 
play the  somewhat  difficult  figure  of  a 
sardine.  Henry  put  down  his  glass,  and 
came  to  my  rescue  with  the  necessary 
explanation. 

"  Why,  women  —  that  they  can  tell  one 
baby  from  another,  without  its  clothes 
I've  got  a  sister,  a  monthly  nurse,  and 
she  will  tell  you  for  a  fact,  if  you  care  to 
ask  her,  that  up  to  three  months  of  age 
there  isn't  really  any  difference  between 
'em.  You  can  tell  a  girl  from  a  boy  and 
a  Christian  child  from  a  black  heathen, 
perhaps;    but  to   fancy  you  can  put  your 


The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry     77 

finger  on  an  unclothed  infant  and  say : 
'  That 's  a  Smith,  or  that 's  a  Jones/  as  the 
case  may  be  —  why,  it 's  sheer  nonsense. 
Take  the  things  off  'em,  and  shake  them 
up  in  a  blanket,  and  I  '11  bet  you  what 
you  like  that  which  is  which  you  'd  never 
be  able  to  tell  again  so  long  as  you 
lived." 

I  agreed  with  Henry,  so  far  as  my 
own  personal  powers  of  discrimination 
might  be  concerned,  but  I  suggested  that 
to  Mrs.  Jones  or  Mrs.  Smith  there  would 
surely  occur  some  means  of  identifica- 
tion. 

'^  So  they  'd  tell  you  themselves,  no 
doubt,"  replied  Henry ;  "  and  of  course,  I 
am  not  thinking  of  cases  where  the  child 
might  have  a  mole  or  a  squint,  as  might 
come  in  useful.  But  take  'em  in  general, 
kids  are  as  much  alike  as  sardines  of  the 


78     The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry 


same  age  would  be.  Anyhow,  I  knew  a 
case  where  a  fool  of  a  young  nurse  mixed 
up  two  children  at  an  hotel,  and  to  this 
day  neither  of  those  women  is  sure  that 
she's  got  her  own." 

"  Do  you  mean,"  I  said,  "  there  was  no 
possible  means  of  distinguishing  ?  " 

"There  wasn't  a  flea-bite  to  go  by," 
answered  Henry.  "  They  had  the  same 
bumps,  the  same  pimples,  the  same 
scratches ;  they  were  the  same  age  to 
within  three  days ;  they  weighed  the  same 
to  an  ounce ;  and  they  measured  the  same 
to  an  inch.  One  father  was  tall  and  fair, 
and  the  other  was  short  and  dark.  The 
tall,  fair  man  had  a  dark,  short  wife ;  and 
the  short,  dark  man  had  married  a  tall, 
fair  woman.  For  a  week  they  changed 
those  kids  to  and  fro  a  dozen  times  a  day, 
and  cried  and  quarrelled  over  them.     Each 


The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry      79 


woman  felt  sure  she  was  the  mother  of  the 
one  that  was  crowing  at  the  moment,  and 
when  it  yelled  she  was  positive  it  was  no 
child  of  hers.  They  thought  they  would 
trust  to  the  instinct  of  the  children. 
Neither  child,  so  long  as  it  was  n't  hungry, 
appeared  to  care  a  curse  for  anybody ; 
and  when  it  was  hungry  it  always  wanted 
the  mother  that  the  other  kid  had  got. 
They  decided,  in  the  end,  to  leave  it  to 
time.  It 's  three  years  ago  now,  and  pos- 
sibly enough  some  likeness  to  the  parents 
will  develop  that  will  settle  the  question. 
All  I  say  is,  up  to  three  months  old  you 
can't  tell  'em,  I  don't  care  who  says  you 


can." 


He  paused,  and  appeared  to  be  absorbed 
in  contemplation  of  the  distant  Matter- 
horn,  then  clad  in  its  rosy  robe  of  evening. 
There  was  a  vein  of  poetry  in  Henry,  not 


8o     The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry 

uncommon  among  cooks  and  waiters.  The 
perpetual  atmosphere  of  hot  food  I  am 
inclined  to  think  favourable  to  the  growth 
of  the  softer  emotions.  One  of  the  most 
sentimental  men  I  ever  knew  kept  a  ham- 
and-beef  shop  just  off  the  Farringdon  Road. 
In  the  early  morning  he  could  be  shrewd 
and  business-like,  but  when  hovering  with 
a  knife  and  fork  above  the  mingled  steam 
of  bubbling  sausages  and  hissing  peas- 
pudding,  any  whimpering  tramp  witli 
any  impossible  tale  of  woe  could  impose 
upon  him  easily. 

"But  the  rummiest  go  I  ever  recol- 
lect in  connection  with  a  baby,"  con- 
tinued Henry  after  a  while,  his  gaze 
still  fixed  upon  the  distant  snow-crowned 
peaks,  "  happened  to  me  at  Warwick 
in  the  Jubilee  year.  I  '11  never  forget 
that." 


The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry      8 1 

"  Is  it  a  proper  story,"  I  asked,  "  a 
story  fit  for  me  to  hear  ? " 

On  consideration,  Henry  saw  no  harm 
in  it,  and  told  it  to  me  accordingly. 

He  came  by  the  'bus  that  meets  the 
4.52.  He  'd  a  handbag  and  a  sort  of 
hamper :  it  looked  to  me  like  a  linen- 
basket.  He  would  n't  let  the  Boots  touch 
the  hamper,  but  carried  it  up  into  his 
bedroom  himself.  He  carried  it  in  front 
of  him  by  the  handles,  and  grazed  his 
knuckles  at  every  second  step.  He  slipped 
going  round  the  bend  of  the  stairs,  and 
knocked  his  head  a  rattling  good  thump 
against  the  balustrade ;  but  he  never  let 
go  that  hamper  —  only  swore  and  plunged 
on.  I  could  see  he  was  nervous  and 
excited,  but  one  gets  used  to  nervous 
and  excited  people  in  hotels.     Whether  a 


82     The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry 

man's  running  away  from  a  thing,  or 
running  after  a  thing,  he  stops  at  a  hotel 
on  his  way ;  and  so  long  as  he  looks  as 
if  he  could  pay  his  bill  one  doesn't  trouble 
much  about  him.  But  this  man  mterested 
me :  he  was  so  uncommonly  young  and 
innocent-looking.  Besides,  it  was  a  dull 
hole  of  a  place  after  the  sort  of  jobs  I  'd 
been  used  to ;  and  when  you  've  been 
doing  nothing  for  three  months  but  wait- 
ing on  commercial  gents  as  are  having 
an  exceptionally  bad  season,  and  spoony 
couples  with  guide-books,  you  get  a  bit 
depressed,  and  welcome  any  incident, 
however  slight,  that  promises  to  be  out 
of  the  common. 

I  followed  him  up  into  his  room,  and 
asked  him  if  1  could  do  anything  for  him. 
He  flopped  the  liamper  on  the  bed  with 
a  sigh    of  relief,    tcjok  off  his   hat,    wiped 


The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry      83 

his  head  with  his  handkerchief,  and  then 
turned   to  answer  me. 

"  Are  you  a  married  man  ? "  says  he. 

It  was  an  odd  question  to  put  to  a 
waiter,  but  coming  from  a  gent  there  was 
nothing  to  be  alarmed  about. 

*'  Well,  not  exactly,"  I  says  —  I  was 
only  engaged  at  that  time,  and  that  not 
to  my  wife,  if  you  understand  what  I 
mean  — "  but  I  know  a  good  deal  about 
it,"  I  says,  "  and  if  it 's  a  matter  of 
advice " 

"  It  is  n't  that,"  he  answers,  interrupting 
me ;  "  but  I  don't  want  you  to  laugh  at  me. 
I  thought  if  you  were  a  married  man  you 
would  be  able  to  understand  the  thing 
better.  Have  you  got  an  intelligent 
woman  in  the  house  ?  " 

"  We  've  got  women,"  I  says.  "  As  to 
their     intelligence,     that's    a    matter     of 


84     The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry 

opinion ;  they  're  the  average  sort  of 
women.     Shall  I  call  the  chambermaid  ?  " 

"  Ah,  do,"  he  says.  "  Wait  a  minute," 
he  says ;  "  we  '11  open  it  first." 

He  began  to  fumble  with  the  cord,  then 
he  suddenly  lets  go  and  begins  to  chuckle 
to  himself. 

"  No,"  he  says,  "  you  open  it.  Open  it 
carefully ;  it  will  surprise  you." 

I  don't  take  much  stock  in  surprises 
myself.  My  experience  is  that  they  're 
mostly  unpleasant. 

"  What 's  in  it  ?  "  I  says. 

"  You  '11  see  if  you  open  it,"  he  sa3^s  : 
"it  won't  hurt  you."  And  off  he  goes 
again,  chuckling  to  himself. 

"Well,"  I  says  to  myself,  "I  hope 
you  're  a  harmless  .specimen."  Then  an 
idea  struck  me,  and  I  stopped  with  the 
knot  in  my  fingers. 


The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry      85 

"  It  ain't  a  corpse,"  I  says,  "  is  it  ?  " 

He  turned  as  white  as  the  sheet  on  the 
bed,  and  chitched  the  mantelpiece.  "  Good 
God !  don't  suggest  such  a  thing,"  he 
says  ;  "  I  never  thought  of  that.  Open  it 
quickly." 

"  I  'd  rather  you  came  and  opened  it 
yourself,  sir,"  I  says.  I  was  beginning 
not  to  half  like  the  business. 

"  I  can't,"  he  says,  "  after  that  sugges- 
tion of  yours  — you  've  put  me  all  in  a 
tremble.  Open  it  quick,  man ;  tell  me  it 's 
all  right." 

Well,  my  own  curiosity  helped  me.  I 
cut  the  cord,  threw  open  the  lid,  and 
looked  in.  He  kept  his  eyes  turned 
away,  as  if  he  were  frightened  to  look  for 
himself. 

"Is  it  all  right?"  he  says.  "Is  it 
alive  ?  " 


86     The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry 

"  It 's  about  as  alive,"  I  says,  "  as 
anybody  '11  ever  want  it  to  be,  I  should 
say." 

"  Is  it  breathing  all  right  ?  "  he  says. 

"  If  you  can't  hear  it  breathing,"  I  says, 
"  I  'm  afraid  you  're  deaf." 

You  might  have  heard  its  breathing  out- 
side in  the  street.  He  listened,  and  even 
he  was  satisfied. 

"  Thank  Heaven !  "  he  says,  and  down 
he  plumped  in  the  easy-chair  by  the  fire- 
place. "  You  know,  I  never  thought 
of  that,"  he  goes  on.  "  He 's  been 
slmt  up  in  that  basket  for  over  an  hour, 
and  if  by  any  chance  he  'd  managed  to 
get    his    head    entangled    in    the    clothes 

1  '11    never    do    such    a    fool's    trick 

again  !  " 

"  You're  fond  of  it  ?"  I  says. 

He  looked  round  at  me.     "  Fond  of  it," 


The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry      87 

he  repeats.  "  Why,  I  'm  his  father." 
And  then  he  begins  to  laugh  again. 

"  Oh !  "  I  says.  "  Then  I  presume  I 
have  the  pleasure  of  addressing  Mr.  Coster 
Kuig  ? " 

"  Coster  King  ? "  he  answers  in  sur- 
prise.    "My  name's  Milberry." 

I  says :  "  The  father  of  this  child, 
according  to  the  label  inside  the  cover, 
is  Coster  King  out  of  Starlight,  his 
mother  being  Jenny  Deans  out  of  Darby 
the   Devil." 

He  looks  at  me  in  a  nervous  fashion,  and 
puts  the  chair  between  us.  It  was  evi- 
dently his  turn  to  think  as  how  I  was  mad. 
Satisfying  himself,  I  suppose,  that  at  all 
events  I  wasn't  dangerous,  he  crept  closer 
till  he  could  get  a  look  inside  the  basket. 
I  never  heard  a  man  give  such  an  un- 
earthly yell  in  all  my  life.     He  stood  on 


88     The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry 

one  side  of  the  bed  and  I  on  the  other. 
The  dog,  awakened  by  the  noise,  sat  up 
and  grinned,  first  at  one  of  us  and  then  at 
the  other.  I  took  it  to  be  a  bull-pup  of 
about  nine  months  old,  and  a  fine  specimen 
for  its  age. 

"  My  cliild ! "  he  shrieks,  with  his  eyes 
starting  out  of  his  head.  "That  thing 
is  n't  my  child.  What 's  happened  ? 
Am  I  going  mad  ?  " 

"You  're  on  that  way,"  I  says,  and  so 
he  was.  "  Calm  yourself,"  I  says  ;  "  what 
did  you  expect  to  see  ?  " 

"  My  child,"  he  shrieks  again ;  "  my  only 
child  —  my  baby ! " 

"Do  you  mean  a  real  child?"  I  says, 
"  a  human  child  ?  "  Some  folks  have  such 
a  silly  way  of  talking  about  their  dogs  — 
you  never  can  tell. 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  he  says ;  "  the  prettiest 


The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry      89 

child  you  ever  saw  in  all  your  life,  just 
thirteen  weeks  old  on  Sunday.  He  cut  his 
first  tooth  yesterday." 

The  sight  of  the  dog's  face  seemed  to 
madden  him.  He  flung  himself  upon  the 
basket,  and  would,  I  believe,  have  strangled 
the  poor  beast  if  I  had  n't  interposed  be- 
tween them. 

"'Taint  the  dog's  fault,"  I  says;  "I 
daresay  he  *s  as  sick  about  the  whole  busi- 
ness as  you  are.  He's  lost,  too.  Some- 
body's been  having  a  lark  with  you. 
They've  took  your  baby  out  and  put  this 
in  —  that  is,  if  there  ever  was  a  baby 
there." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  says. 

"  Well,  sir,"  I  says,  "  if  you  '11  excuse 
me,  gentlemen  in  their  sober  senses  don't 
take  their  babies  about  in  dog-baskets. 
Where  do  you  come  from  ? " 


90     The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry 

''From  Banbury,"  he  saysj  "I'm  well 
known  in  Banbury." 

"  I  can  quite  believe  it,"  I  says ;  "  you  're 
the  sort  of  young  man  that  would  be 
known  anywhere." 

"I'm  Mr.  Milberry,"  he  says,  "the 
grocer,  in  the  High  Street." 

"  Then  what  are  you  doing  here  with 
this  dog  ?  "  I  says. 

"  Don't  irritate  me,"  he  answers.  "  I 
tell  you  I  don't  know  myself.  My  wife's 
stopping  here  at  Warwick,  nursing  her 
mother,  and  in  every  letter  she's  written 
home  for  the  last  fortnight  she's  said, 
'  Oh,  how  I  do  long  to  see  Eric  !  If  only 
I  could  see  Eric  for  a  moment ! '  " 

"  A  very  motherly  sentiment,"  I  says, 
"  which  does  her  credit." 

"  So  this  afternoon,"  continues  he,  "  it 
being    early-closing    day,    I    thought    I'd 


The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry     91 

bring  the  child  here,  so  that  she  might 
see  it,  and  see  that  it  was  all  right.  She 
can't  leave  her  mother  for  more  than 
about  an  hour,  and  I  can't  go  up  to  the 
house,  because  the  old  lady  doesn't  like 
me,  and  I  excite  her.  I  wish  to  wait  here, 
and  Milly —  that 's  my  wife  —  was  to  come 
to  me  when  she  could  get  away.  I  meant 
this  to  be  a  surprise  to  her." 

"  And  I  guess,"  I  says,  "  it  will  be  the 
biggest  one  you  have  ever  given  her." 

"  Don't  try  to  be  funny  about  it,"  he 
says ;  "  I  'm  not  altogether  myself,  and  I 
may  do  you  an  injury." 

He  was  right.  It  wasn't  a  subject  for 
joking,  though  it  had  its  humorous  side. 

"But  why,"  I  says,  "put  it  in  a  dog- 
basket  ?  " 

"  It  is  n't  a  dog-basket,"  he  answers 
irritably  j  "  it 's  a  picnic  hamper.     At  the 


92     The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry 

last  moment  I  found  I  had  n't  got  the 
face  to  carry  the  child  in  my  arms :  I 
thought  of  what  the  street-boys  would 
call  out  after  me.  He's  a  rare  one  to 
sleep,  and  I  thought  if  I  made  him 
comfortable  in  that  he  could  n't  hurt, 
just  for  so  short  a  journey.  I  took  it  in 
the  carriage  with  me,  and  carried  it  on 
my  knees ;  I  have  n't  let  it  out  of  my 
hands  a  blessed  moment.  It 's  witchcraft, 
that 's  what  it  is.  I  shall  believe  in  the 
devil  after  this." 

"  Don't  be  ridiculous,"  I  says,  "  there  's 
some  explanation ;  it  only  wants  finding. 
You  are  sure  this  is  the  identical  hamper 
you  packed  the  child  in  ? " 

He  was  calmer  now.  He  leant  over 
and  examined  it  carefully.  "  It  looks 
like  it,"  he  says  j  "  but  I  can't  swear 
to    it." 


The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry     93 

"  You  tell  me,"  I  says,  "  you  never  let 
it  go  out  of  your  hands.     Now  think." 

"  No,"  he  says,  "  it 's  been  on  my 
knees    all    the    time." 

"  But  that 's  nonsense,"  I  says ;  "  un- 
less you  packed  the  dog  yourself  in 
mistake  for  your  baby.  Now  think  it 
over  quietly.  I  'm  not  your  wife,  I  'm 
only  trying  to  help  you.  I  shan't  say 
anything  even  if  you  did  take  your  eyes 
off  the  thing  for  a  minute." 

He  tliought  again,  and  a  light  broke 
over  his  face.  "  By  Jove ! "  he  says, 
"  you  're  right.  I  did  put  it  down  for 
a  moment  on  the  platform  at  Banbury 
while   I   bought   a   ^Tit-Bits.'" 

"  There  you  are,"  I  says  ;  "  now  you  're 
talkinsc  sense.  And  wait  a  minute ;  is  n't 
to-morrow  the  first  day  of  the  Birming- 
ham Dog   Show?" 


94     The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry 


"I  believe  you're  right,"  he  says. 
"  Now  we  're  getting  warm,"  I  says. 
"  By  a  coincidence  this  dog  was  being 
taken  to  Birmingham,  packed  in  a  ham- 
per exactly  similar  to  the  one  you  put 
your  baby  in.  You've  got  this  man's 
bull-pup,  he's  got  your  baby;  and  I 
would  n't  like  to  say  off-hand  at  this 
moment  which  of  you 's  feeling  the 
madder.  As  likely  as  not,  he  thinks 
you  've    done    it    on    purpose." 

He  leant  his  head  against  the  bed- 
post and  groaned.  "Milly  may  be 
here  at  any  moment,"  says  he,  "  and 
I  '11  have  to  tell  her  the  baby 's  been 
sent  by  mistake  to  a  Dog  Show !  I 
dares  n't  do  it,"  he  says,  "  I  dares  n't 
do   it." 

"  Go     on     to     Birmingham,"     I     says, 
"  and    try    and    lind    it.     You    can   catch 


The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry     95 

the    quarter    to    six    and    be    back    here 
before    eight." 

"  Come  with  me,"  he  says  ;  "  you  're 
a  good  man,  come  with  me.  I  ain't  fit 
to  go  by  myself." 

He  was  right ;  he  'd  have  got  run  over 
outside  the  door,  the  state  he  was  in 
then. 

"  Well,"  I  says,  "  if  the  guv'nor  don't 
object " 

"  Oh !  he  won't,  he  can't,"  cries  the 
young  fellow,  wringing  his  hands.  "  Tell 
him  it's  a  matter  of  a  life's  happiness. 
Tell   him " 

"  I  '11  tell  him  it 's  a  matter  of  half  a 
sovereign  extra  on  to  the  bill,"  I  says. 
''That '11  more  likely  do  the  trick." 

And  so  it  did,  with  the  result  that  in 
another  twenty  minutes  me  and  young 
Milberry  and  the  bull-pup  in  its   hamper 


96     The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry 

were  in  a  third-class  carriage  on  our  way 
to  Birmingham.  Then  the  difficulties  of 
the  chase  began  to  occur  to  me.  Suppose 
by  luck  I  was  right ;  suppose  the  pup  was 
booked  for  the  Birmingham  Dog  Show; 
and  suppose  by  a  bit  more  luck  a  gent 
with  a  hamper  answering  description  had 
been  noticed  getting  out  of  the  5.13  train ; 
then  where  were  we  ?  We  might  have  to 
interview  every  cabman  in  the  town.  As 
likely  as  not,  by  the  time  we  did  find  the 
kid,  it  wouldn't  be  worth  the  trouble  of 
unpacking.  Still,  it  wasn't  my  cue  to 
blab  my  thoughts.  The  father,  poor 
fellow,  was  feeling,  I  take  it,  just  about 
as  bad  as  he  wanted  to  feel.  My  business 
was  to  put  liope  into  him ;  so  when  he 
asked  me  for  about  the  twentieth  time  if 
I  thought  as  he  would  ever  see  his  child 
alive  again,  1  snapped  liim  up  sliortish. 


The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry     97 

"Don't  you  fret  yourself  about  that," 
I  says.  "  You  '11  see  a  good  deal  of  that 
child  before  you've  done  with  it.  Babies 
ain't  the  sort  of  things  as  gets  lost  easily. 
It 's  only  on  the  stage  that  folks  ever  have 
any  particular  use  for  other  people's 
children.  I've  known  some  bad  char- 
acters in  my  time,  but  I'd  have  trusted 
the  worst  of  'em  with  a  wagon-load  of 
other  people's  kids.  Don't  you  flatter 
yourself  you're  going  to  lose  it!  Wlio- 
ever's  got  it,  you  take  it  from  me,  his 
idea  is  to  do  the  honest  thing,  and  never 
rest  till  he's  succeeded  in  returning  it  to 
the  rightful  owner," 

Well,  my  talking  like  that  cheered  him, 
and  when  we  reached  Birmingham  he  was 
easier.  We  tackled  the  station-master, 
and  he  tackled  all  the  porters  who  could 
have  been  about   the    platform  when   the 


98      The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry 

5.13  came  in.  All  of  'em  agreed  that  no 
gent  got  out  of  tliat  train  carrying  a 
hamper.  The  station-master  was  a  family 
man  himself,  and  when  we  explained  the 
case  to  hun  he  sympathised  and  tele- 
graphed to  Banbury.  The  booking-clerk 
at  Banbury  remembered  only  three  gents 
booking  by  that  particular  train.  One 
had  been  Mr.  Jessop,  the  corn-chandler; 
the  second  was  a  stranger,  who  had 
booked  to  Wolverhampton ;  and  the  third 
had  been  young  Milberry  himself.  The 
business  began  to  look  hopeless,  when  one 
of  Smith's  newsboys,  who  was  hanging 
around,  struck  in : 

"  I  see  an  old  lady,"  says  he,  "  hovering 
about  outside  the  station,  and  a-hailing 
cabs,  and  she  had  a  hamper  with  her 
as  was  as  like  that  one  there  as  two 
peas.'* 


The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry      99 


I  thought  young  Milberry  would  have 
fallen  upon  the  boy's  neck  and  kissed 
him.  With  the  boy  to  help  us,  we  started 
among  the  cabmen.  Old  ladies  with  dog- 
baskets  ain't  so  difficult  to  trace.  She 
had  gone  to  a  small  second-rate  hotel  in 
the  Aston  Road.  I  heard  all  particulars 
from  the  chambermaid,  and  the  old  girl 
seems  to  have  had  as  bad  a  time  in  her 
way  as  my  gent  had  in  his.  They 
couldn't  get  the  hamper  into  the  cab,  it 
had  to  go  on  the  top.  The  old  lady  was 
very  worried,  as  it  was  raining  at  the 
time,  and  she  made  the  cabman  cover  it 
with  his  apron.  Getting  it  off  the  cab 
they  dropped  the  whole  thing  in  the 
road;  that  woke  the  child  up,  and  it 
began  to  cry. 

"Good  Lord,  Ma'am!  what  is  it?"  asks 
the  chambermaid,  "  a  baby?" 


I  oo     The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry 

"Yes,  my  dear,  it's  my  baby,"  answers 
the  old  lady,  who  seems  to  have  been  a 
cheerful  sort  of  old  soul  —  leastways,  she 
was  cheerful  up  to  then.  "Poor  dear,  I 
hope  they  haven't  hurt  him." 

The  old  lady  had  ordered  a  room  with 
a  fire  in  it.  The  Boots  took  the  hamper 
up,  and  laid  it  on  the  hearthrug.  The 
old  lady  said  she  and  the  chambermaid 
would  see  to  it,  and  turned  him  out.  By 
this  time,  according  to  the  girl's  account, 
it  was  roaring  like  a  steam-siren. 

"  Pretty  dear ! "  says  the  old  lady, 
fumbling  with  the  cord,  "  don't  cry ; 
mother's  opening  it  as  fast  as  she  can." 
Then  she  turns  to  the  chambermaid  — 
"  If  you  open  my  bag,"  says  she,  "  you 
will  find  a  bottle  of  milk  and  some  dog- 
biscuits." 

"  Dog-biscuits !  "  says  the  chambermaid. 


The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry      loi 

"  Yes,"  says  the  old  lady,  laughing, 
"  my  baby  loves  dog-biscuits." 

The  girl  opened  the  bag,  and  there, 
sure  enough,  was  a  bottle  of  milk  and 
half  a  dozen  Spratt's  biscuits.  She  had 
her  back  to  the  old  lady,  when  she  heard 
a  sort  of  a  groan  and  a  thud  as  made 
her  turn  round.  The  old  lady  was  lying 
stretched  dead  on  the  hearthrug  —  so  the 
chambermaid  thought.  The  kid  was  sit- 
ting up  in  the  hamper  yelling  the  roof  off. 
In  her  excitement,  not  knowing  what  she 
was  doing,  she  handed  it  a  biscuit,  which 
it  snatched  at  greedily  and  began  suck- 
ting.  Then  she  set  to  work  to  slap  the 
old  lady  back  to  life  again.  In  about  a 
minute  the  poor  old  soul  opened  her  eyes 
and  looked  round.  The  baby  was  quiet 
now,  gnawing  the  dog-biscuit.  The  old 
lady  looked  at  the  child,  then  turned  and 


I02     The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry 

hid  her  face  against  the  chambermaid's 
bosom. 

"What  is  it?"  she  says,  speaking  in 
an  awed  voice.  "  The  thing  in  the  ham- 
per ?  " 

"  It 's  a  baby,  Ma'am,"  says  the  maid. 

"  You  're  sure  it  ain't  a  dog  ?  "  says  the 
old  lady.     "  Look  agam." 

The  girl  began  to  feel  nervous,  and  to 
wish  that  she  wasn't  alone  with  the  old 
lady. 

"I  ain't  likely  to  mistake  a  dog  for  a 
baby.  Ma'am,"  says  the  girl.  "It's  a 
child  —  a  human  mfant." 

The  old  lady  began  to  cry  softly.  "  It 's 
a  judgment  on  me,"  she  says.  "  I  used 
to  talk  to  that  dog  as  if  it  had  been  a 
Christian,  and  now  this  thing  has  hap- 
pened as  a  punishment." 

"  What's  happened  ?"  says  the  chamber- 


THK    KU)    WAS    ^rni.NG     11'    IN     I'llli    UAMl'EJt,    YELL1.N< 

UOOI'    OKI'." 


The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry      103 

maid,  who  was  naturally  enough  growing 
more  and  more  curious. 

"  I  don't  know,"  says  the  old  lady, 
sitting  up  on  the  floor.  "  If  this  is  n't 
a  dream,  and  if  I  ain't  mad,  I  started 
from  my  home  at  Farthinghoe,  two  hours 
ago,  with  a  one-year-old  bulldog  packed 
in  that  hamper.  You  saw  me  open  it; 
you  see  what 's  inside  it  now." 

"But  bulldogs,"  says  the  chambermaid, 
"  ain't  changed  into  babies  by  magic." 

"  I  don't  know  how  it 's  done,"  says  the 
old  lady,  "  and  I  don't  see  that  it  matters. 
I  know  I  started  with  a  bulldog,  and  some- 
how or  other  it 's  got  turned  into  that." 

"  Somebody 's  put  it  there,"  says  the 
chambermaid;  "somebody  as  wanted  to 
get  rid  of  a  child.  They've  took  your 
dog  out  and  put  that  in  its  place." 

"  They  must  have  been  precious  smart," 


1 04     The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry 

says  the  old  lady ;  "  the  hamper  has  n't 
been  out  of  my  sight  for  more  than  five 
minutes,  when  I  went  into  the  refresh- 
ment-room at  Banbury  for  a  cup  of  tea." 

"  That 's  when  they  did  it,"  says  the 
chambermaid,  "  and  a  clever  trick  it 
was." 

The  old  lady  suddenly  grasped  her 
position,  and  jumped  up  from  the  floor. 
'*  And  a  nice  thing  for  me,"  she  says. 
"An  unmarried  woman  in  a  scandal- 
mongering  village  !     This  is  awful !  " 

"  It 's  a  fine-looking  child,"  says  the 
chambermaid. 

"  Would  you  like  it  ?  "  says  the  old  lady. 

The  chambermaid  said  she  wouldn't. 
The  old  lady  sat  down  and  tried  to  think, 
and  the  more  she  thought  the  worse  she 
felt.  The  chambermaid  was  positive  that 
if  we  had  n't  come  when  wc  did  the  poor 


The  Surprise  of  Mr.  Milberry      105 

creature  would  have  gone  mad.  When 
the  Boots  appeared  at  the  door  to  say 
there  was  a  gent  and  a  bulldog  downstairs 
enquiring  after  a  baby,  she  flung  her  arms 
round  the  man's  neck  and  hugged  him. 

We  just  caught  the  train  to  Warwick, 
and  by  luck  got  back  to  the  hotel  ten 
minutes  before  the  mother  turned  up. 
Young  Milberry  carried  the  child  in  his 
arms  all  the  way.  He  said  I  could  have 
the  hamper  for  myself,  and  gave  me  half- 
a-sovereign  extra  on  the  understanding 
that  I  kept  my  mouth  shut,  which  I 
did. 

I  don't  think  he  ever  told  the  child's 
mother  what  had  happened  —  leastways,  if 
he  was  n't  a  fool  right  through,  he  did  n't. 


The  Probation  of  yames 
Wrench 


The  Probation  of  Jamej 
Wrench 


"  ^  I  AH  ERE  are  two  sorts  of  men 
I  as  gets  hen-pecked/'  remarked 
Henry  —  I  forgot  how  the  subject  had 
originated,  but  we  had  been  discussing 
the  merits  of  Henry  VIH.,  considered  as 
a  father  and  a  husband,  — "  the  sort  as 
Hkes  it  and  the  sort  as  don't,  and  I 
wouldn't  be  too  cocksure  that  the  sort 
as  does  is  n't  on  the  whole  in  the 
majority. 

"  You  see,"  continued  Henry  argumen- 
tatively,  "it  gives,  as  it  were,  a  kind  of 
interest  to  life  which  nowadays,  with 
everything  going  smoothly,  and  no  chance 


no    The  Probation  of  James  Wrench 

of  a  row  anywhere  except  in  your  own 
house,  is  apt  to  become  a  bit  monotonous. 
There  was  a  chap  I  got  to  know  pretty 
well  one  winter  when  I  was  working  in 
Dresden  at  the  Europiiischer  Hof :  a 
quiet,  meek  little  man  he  was,  a  journey- 
man butcher  by  trade ;  and  his  wife  was 
a  dressmaker,  a  Schneiderin,  as  they 
call  them  over  there,  and  ran  a  fairly 
big  business  in  the  Praguer  Strasse.  I  've 
always  been  told  that  German  husbands 
are  the  worst  going,  treating  their  wives 
like  slaves,  or,  at  the  best,  as  mere 
upper  servants.  But  my  experience  is 
that  human  nature  don't  alter  so  much 
according  to  distance  from  London  as  we 
fancy  it  does,  and  that  husbands  have 
their  troubles  same  as  wives  all  the  world 
over.  Any] low,  I  've  come  across  a  Ger- 
man   husband    or    two    as    didn't    carry 


The  Probation  of  James  Wrench     1 1 1 

about  with  him  any  sign  of  the  slave 
driver  such  as  you  might  notice,  at  all 
events  not  in  his  own  house ;  and  I  know 
for  a  fact  that  Meister  Anton,  which  was 
the  name  of  the  chap  I  'm  telling  you 
about,  could  n't  have  been  much  worse  off, 
not  even  if  he  'd  been  an  Englishman 
born  and  bred.  There  were  no  children 
to  occupy  her  mind,  so  she  just  devoted 
herself  to  him  and  the  work-girls,  and 
made  things  hum,  as  they  say  in  America, 
for  all  of  them.  As  for  the  girls,  they  got 
away  at  six  in  the  evening,  and  not  many 
of  them  stopped  more  than  the  first  month. 
But  the  old  man,  not  being  able  to  give 
notice,  had  to  put  up  with  an  average  of 
eighteen  hours  a  day  of  it.  And  even 
when,  as  was  sometimes  the  case,  he 
managed  to  get  away  for  an  hour  or 
two  in  the  evening  for  a  quiet  talk  with 


112     The  Probation  of  James  Wrench 

a  few  of  us  over  a  glass  of  beer,  he 
could  never  be  quite  happy,  thinking  of 
what  was  accumulating  for  him  at  home. 
Of  course  everybody  as  knew  him  knew 
of  his  troubles  —  for  a  scolding  wife  ain't 
the  sort  of  thing  as  can  be  hid  under  a 
bushel,  —  and  was  sorry  for  him,  he 
being  as  amiable  and  good-tempered  a 
fellow  as  ever  lived,  and  most  of  us 
spent  our  time  with  him  advising  him 
for  his  good.  Some  of  the  more  ardent 
would  give  him  recipes  for  managing  her, 
but  they,  being  generally  speaking  bach- 
elors, their  suggestions  lacked  practi- 
cability, as  you  might  say.  One  man 
bored  his  life  out  persuading  him  to  try 
a  bucket  of  cold  water.  He  was  one  of 
those  cold-water  enthusiasts,  this  fellow; 
took  it  himself  for  everything,  and  always 
went   to  a  hydropathic   establishment   for 


The  Probation  of  James  Wrench     i  i  3 

his  hoHdays.  Rumour  had  it  that  Meister 
Anton  really  did  try  this  experiment  on 
one  unfortunate  occasion  —  worried  into 
it,  I  suppose,  by  the  other  chap's  per- 
sistency. Anyhow,  we  did  n't  see  him 
again  for  a  week,  he  being  confined  to  his 
bed  with  a  chill  on  the  liver.  And  the 
next  suggestion  made  to  him  he  rejected 
quite  huffily,  explaining  that  he  had 
no  intention  of  putting  any  fresh  ideas 
into  his  wife's  head. 

"  She  was  n't  a  bad  woman,  mind  you  — 
merely  given  to  fits  of  temper.  At  times 
she  could  be  quite  pleasant ;  but  when 
she  wasn't  life  with  her  must  have  been 
exciting.  He  had  stood  it  for  about  seven 
years;  and  then  one  day,  without  a  word 
of  warning  to  anyone,  he  went  away  and 
left  her.  As  she  was  quite  able  to  keep 
herself,  this  seemed  to  be  the  best  arrange- 


114     The  Probation  of  James  Wrench 

ment  possible,  and  everybody  wondered 
why  he  had  never  thought  of  it  before. 
I  did  not  see  him  again  for  nine  months, 
until  I  ran  against  him  by  pure  chance  on 
the  Koln  platform,  where  I  was  waitmg 
for  a  train  to  Paris.  He  told  me  they  had 
made  up  all  their  differences  by  corres- 
pondence, and  that  he  was  then  on  his 
way  back  to  her.  He  seemed  quite  cheer- 
ful and  expectant. 

"  *  Do  you  think  she  's  really  reformed  ? ' 
I  says.  'Do  you  think  nine  months  is 
long  enough  to  have  taught  her  a  lesson  ? ' 
I  did  n't  want  to  damp  him,  but  personally 
I  have  never  known  but  one  case  of  a 
woman  l^eing  cured  of  nagging,  and  that 
being  brought  about  by  a  fall  from  a  third- 
story  window,  resulting  in  what  the  doc- 
tors called  permanent  paralysis  of  the  vocal 
organs,  can  hardly  be  taken  as  a  precedent. 


The  Probation  of  James  Wrench     1 1 5 

"  ^  No,'  he  answers,  ^  nor  nine  years. 
Bnt  it 's  been  long  enough  to  teach  me  a 
lesson. 

"  '  You  know  me,'  he  goes  on.  '^  I  ain't 
a  quarrelsome  sort  of  chap.  If  nobody 
says  a  word  to  me,  I  never  says  a  word 
to  anybody ;  and  it 's  been  like  that  ever 
since  I  left  her,  day  in  and  day  out,  all 
just  the  same.  Up  in  the  morning,  do 
your  bit  of  work,  drink  your  glass  of 
beer,  and  to  bed  in  the  evening ;  noth- 
ing to  excite  you,  nothing  to  rouse  you. 
Why,  it's  a  mere  animal  existence.' 

"  He  was  a   rum  sort  of   chap,   always 
thought  things  out  from  his  own  point  of 
view  as  it  were." 

"  Yes,  a  curious  case,"  I  remarked  to 
Henry;  "not  the  sort  of  story  to  put 
about,  however.  It  might  give  women 
the   idea    that   nagging    is  attractive,  and 


1 1 6    The  Probation  of  James  Wrench 

encourage  them  to  try  it  upon  husbands 
who  do  not  care  for  that  kind  of  excite- 
ment." 

"  Not  much  fear  of  that,"  replied  Henry. 
"  The  nagging  woman  is  born,  as  they 
say,  not  made ;  and  she  '11  nag  like  the 
roses  bloom,  not  because  she  wants  to,  but 
because  she  can't  help  it.  And  a  woman 
to  whom  it  don't  come  natural  will  never 
be  any  real  good  at  it,  try  as  she  may. 
And  as  for  the  men,  why  we  '11  just  go  on 
selecting  wives  according  to  the  old  rule, 
so  that  you  never  know  what  you've  got 
till  it's  too  late  for  you  to  do  anything 
but  make  the  best  or  the  worst  of  it, 
according  as  your  fancy  takes  you. 

"There  was  a  fellow,"  continued  Henry, 
"  as  used  to  work  with  mo  a  good  many 
years  ago  now  at  a  small  hotel  in  the 
City.     He  was  a  waiter,  like  myself  —  not 


The  Probation  of  James  Wrench     i  1 7 

a  bad  sort  of  chap,  though  a  bit  of  a  toff 
in  his  off-liours.  He  'd  been  engaged  for 
some  two  or  three  years  to  one  of  the 
chambermaids.  A  pretty,  gentle-looking 
little  thing  she  was,  with  big  childish  eyes, 
and  a  voice  like  the  pouring  out  of  water. 
They  are  strange  things,  women ;  one  can 
never  tell  what  they  are  made  of  from  the 
taste  of  them.  And  while  I  was  there,  it 
having  been  a  good  season  for  both  of 
them,  they  thought  they'd  risk  it  and  get 
married.  They  did  the  sensible  thing,  he 
coming  back  to  his  work  after  the  week's 
holiday,  and  she  to  hers  ;  the  only  differ- 
ence being  that  they  took  a  couple  of 
rooms  of  their  own  in  Middleton  Row, 
from  where  in  summer-time  you  can  catch 
the  glimpse  of  a  green  tree  or  two,  and 
slept  out. 

"  The   first  few   months   they    were   as 


1 1 8     The  Probation  of  James  Wrench 

happy  as  a  couple  in  a  play,  she  think- 
ing almost  as  much  of  him  as  he  thought 
of  himself,  which  must  have  been  a 
comfort  to  both  of  them,  and  he  as 
proud  of  her  as  if  he  made  her  himself. 
And  then  some  fifteenth  cousin  or  so  of 
his,  a  man  he  never  heard  of  before, 
died  in  New  Zealand  and  left  him  a 
fortune. 

"  That  was  the  beginning  of  his  troubles, 
and  hers  too.  I  don't  say  it  was  enough 
to  buy  a  peerage,  but  to  a  man  accus- 
tomed to  dream  of  half-crown  tips  it 
seemed  an  enormous  fortune.  Anyhow, 
it  was  sufficient  to  turn  his  head  and 
give  him  ideas  above  his  station.  His 
first  move,  of  course,  was  to  cluick  his 
berth  and  set  fire  to  his  dress  suit, 
which,  being  tolerably  greasy,  burned 
well.      Had     he     stopped     there     nobody 


The  Probation  of  James  Wrench     1 1 9 

could  have  blamed  him.  I've  often 
thought  myself  that  I  would  willingly 
give  ten  years  of  my  life,  provided  any- 
body wanted  them,  which  I  don't  see 
how  they  should,  to  put  my  own  be- 
hind the  fire.  But  he  didn't.  He  took 
a  house  in  a  mews,  with  the  front  door 
in  a  street  off  Grosvenor  Square,  fur- 
nished it  like  a  second-class  German 
restaurant,  dressed  himself  like  a  book- 
maker, and  fancied  that  with  the  help  of 
a  few  shady  City  chaps  and  a  broken-down 
swell  or  two  he  had  gathered  round  him 
he  was  fairly  on  his  way  to  Park  Lane 
and  the  House  of  Lords. 

"And  the  only  thing  that  struck  him 
as  being  at  all  in  his  way  was  his  wife. 
In  her  cap  and  apron,  or  her  Sunday 
print,  she  had  always  looked  as  dainty 
and  fetching  a  little  piece  of  goods  as  a 


I  20     The  Probation  of  James  Wrench 

man  could  wish  to  be  seen  out  with. 
Dressed  according  to  the  advice  of  his 
new-found  friends,  of  course  she  looked 
like  nothing  else  so  much  as  a  barn-yard 
chicken  in  the  costume  of  a  Red  Indian 
chief.  He  was  shocked  to  find  that  her 
size  in  gloves  was  seven-and-a-quarter, 
and  in  boots  something  over  four,  and 
that  sort  of  thing  naturally  irritates  a 
woman  more  even  than  finding  fault 
with  her  immortal  soul.  I  guess  for 
about  a  year  he  made  her  life  pretty 
well  a  burden  for  her,  trying  to  bring 
her  up  to  the  standard  of  the  Saturday- 
to-Monday-at-Brighton  set  with  which  he 
had  surrounded  himself,  or  which,  to 
speak  more  correctly,  had  got  round  him. 
She  'd  a  precious  sight  more  gumption 
than  he  had  ever  possessed,  and  if  he 
had    listened    to    her   instead   of   insisting 


The  Probation  of  James  Wrench     i  2 1 

upon  her  listening  to  him  it  would  have 
been  better  for  him.  But  there  are  some 
men  who  think  that  if  you  have  a  taste 
for  champagne  and  the  ballet  that  proves 
you  are  intended  by  nature  for  a  nob, 
and  he  was  one  of  them ;  and  any  com- 
mon-sense suggestion  of  hers  only  con- 
vinced him  of  her  natural  unfitness  for 
an   exalted   station. 

"  He  grumbled  at  her  accent,  which, 
seeing  that  his  own  was  acquired  in  Lime- 
house  and  finished  off  in  the  Minories,  was 
just  the  sort  of  thing  a  fool  would  do.  And 
he  insisted  on  her  reading  all  the  society 
novels  as  they  came  out  —  you  know  the 
sort  I  mean,  —  where  everybody  snaps 
everybody  else's  head  off,  and  all  the  pro- 
verbs are  upside  down ;  people  leave  them 
about  the  hotels  when  they've  done  with 
them,  and  one  gets  into  the  habit  of  dipping 


122     The  Probation  of  James  Wrench 

into  them  when  one  's  nothing  better  to  do. 
His  hope  was  that  she  might,  with  pains, 
get  to  talk  Uke  these  books.  That  was  his 
ideal. 

"  She  did  her  best,  but  of  course  the  more 
she  got  away  from  herself  the  more  absurd 
she  became ;  and  the  rubbish  and  worse 
that  he  had  about  him  would  ridicule  her 
more  or  less  openly.  And  he,  instead  of 
kickmg  them  out  into  the  mews  —  which 
could  have  been  done  easily  without  Gros- 
venor  Square  knowing  anything  about  it, 
and  thereby  having  its  high-class  feelings 
hurt  —  he  would  blame  her  when  they  had 
all  gone,  just  as  if  it  was  her  fault  that  she 
was  the  daughter  of  a  respectable  bootmaker 
in  the  Mile  End  Road  instead  of  something 
more  likely  than  not  turned  out  of  the  third 
row  of  the  ballet  because  it  could  n't  dance, 
and  did  n't  want  to  learn. 


The  Probation  of  James  Wrench     123 

"  He  played  a  bit  in  the  City,  and  won  at 
first,  and  that  swelled  his  head  worse  than 
ever.  It  also  brought  him  a,  good  deal  of 
sympathy  from  an  Italian  Countess,  the  sort 
you  find  at  Homburg,  and  that  generally 
speaking  is  a  widow.  Her  chief  sorrow 
was  for  society  —  that  in  him  was  losing  an 
ornament.  She  explained  to  him  how  an 
accomplished  and  experienced  woman  could 
help  a  man  to  gain  admittance  into  the  tip- 
top circles,  which,  according  to  her,  were 
just  thirsting  for  him.  As  a  waiter,  he  had 
his  share  of  brains,  and  it 's  a  business  that 
requires  more  insight  than  perhaps  you'd 
fancy,  if  you  don't  want  to  waste  your 
time  on  a  rabbit-skin  coat  and  a  paste 
ring,  and  give  the  burnt  sole  to  the  real 
gent.  But  in  the  hands  of  this  swell 
mob  he  was,  of  course,  just  the  young 
man  from  the  country;  and  the  end  of  it 


1 24     The  Probation  of  James  Wrench 

was  that  he  played  the  game  down  pretty 
low. 

"  She  —  not  the  Countess,  I  should  n't 
like  you  to  have  that  idea,  but  his  wife  — 
came  to  be  pretty  friendly  with  my  missus 
later  on,  and  that 's  how  I  got  to  know  the 
details.  He  comes  to  her  one  day  looking 
pretty  sheepish-like,  as  one  can  well  believe, 
and  maybe  he  'd  been  drinking  a  bit  to  give 
himself  courage. 

"  '  We  ain't  been  getting  along  too  well 
together  of  late,  have  we,  Susan  ?  '  says  he. 

"^We  ain't  seen  much  of  one  another,' 
she  answers ;  '  but  I  agree  with  you,  we 
don't  seem  to  enjoy  it  much  when  we  do.' 

"  '  It  ain't  your  fault,'  says  he. 

"  '  I  'm  glad  you  think  that,'  she  answers ; 
*  it  shows  me  you  ain't  quite  as  foolish  as  I 
was  beginning  to  think  you.' 

" '  Of  course,  I  did  n't  know  when  I  mar- 


The  Probation  of  James  Wrench     125 

ried  you,'  he  goes  on,  ^  as  I  was  going  to 
come  into  this  money.' 

"  '  No,  nor  I  either,'  says  she, '  or  you  bet 
it  would  n't  have  happened.' 

"  ^  It  seems  to  have  been  a  bit  of  a  mis- 
take,' says  he,  '  as  things  have  turned  out.' 

"  ^  It  would  have  been  a  mistake,  and 
more  than  a  bit  of  a  one  in  any  case,' 
answers  she. 

"'I'm  glad  you  agree  with  me,'  says 
he ;  '  there  '11  be  no  need  to  quarrel.' 

"  '  I  've  always  tried  to  agree  with  you,' 
says  she.  '  We  've  never  quarrelled  yet, 
and  that  ought  to  be  sufficient  proof  to 
you  that  we  never  shall.' 

"  *  It 's  a  mistake  that  can  be  rectified,' 
says  he,  '  if  you  are  sensible,  and  that 
without  any  harm  to  anyone.' 

"  '  Oh ! '  says  she,  '  it  must  be  a  new 
sort  of  mistake,  that  kind.' 


I  26    The  Probation  of  James  Wrench 

"  ^  We  're  not  fitted  for  one  another,' 
says  he. 

"  '  Out  with  it/  says  she.  ^  Don't  you 
be  afraid  of  my  feelings;  they  are  well 
under  control,  as  I  think  I  can  fairly  say 
by  this  time.' 

"  '  With  a  man  in  your  own  station  of 
life,'  says  he,  ^ you'd  be  happier.' 

*' '  There 's  many  men  I  might  be  happier 
with,'  replies  she.  ^  That  ain't  the  thing 
to  be  discussed,  seeing  as  I  've  got  you.' 

" '  You  might  get  rid  of  me,'  says  he. 

"  ^  You  mean  you  might  get  rid  of  me,* 
she  answers. 

" '  It  comes  to  the  same  thing,'  he  says. 

" '  No,  it  don't,'  she  replies,  '  nor  any- 
thing like  it.  I  shouldn't  have  got  rid 
of  you  for  my  pleasure,  and  I  'm  not 
going  to  do  it  for  yours.  You  can  live 
like  a   decent  man,  and  I  '11  go  on  putting 


WK'KK    not    FITTI.I)    KOI!    ONK    ANO'l'll  Kli."    >.\  VS    UK 


The  Probation  of  James  Wrench     i  27 

up  with  you;  or  you  can  live  hke  a  fool, 
and  I  shan't  stand  in  your  way.  But  you 
can't  do  both,  and  I  'm  not  going  to  help 
you  try.' 

"Well,  he  argued  with  her,  and  he 
tried  the  coaxing  dodge,  and  he  tried  the 
bullying  dodge,  but  it  did  n't  work,  neither 
of  it. 

"  ^  I  've  done  my  duty  by  3^ou,'  says  she, 
'  so  far  as  I  've  been  able,  and  that  I  '11  go 
on  doing  or  not,  just  as  you  please;  but 
I  don't  do  more.' 

" '  "We  can't  go  on  living  like  this,'  says 
he,  '  and  it  isn't  fair  to  ask  me  to.  You're 
hampering  my  prospects.' 

"'I  don't  want  to  do  that,'  says  she. 
'You  take  your  proper  position  in  society, 
whatever  that  may  be,  and  I  '11  take  mine. 
I  '11  be  glad  enough  to  get  back  to  it,  you 
may  rest  assured.' 


128     The  Probation  of  James  Wrench 

" '  What  do  you  mean  ? '   says  he. 

*"It's  simple  enough/  she  answers.  *I 
was  earning  my  hving  before  I  married 
you,  and  I  can  earn  it  again.  You  go 
your  way,  I  go  mine.' 

"  It  did  n't  satisfy  him ;  but  there  was 
nothing  else  to  be  done,  and  there  was  no 
moving  her  now  in  any  other  direction 
whatever,  even  had  he  wanted  to.  He 
offered  her  anything  in  the  way  of  money 
—  he  was  n't  a  mean  chap,  —  but  she 
would  n't  touch  a  penny.  She  had  kept 
her  old  clothes  —  I'm  not  sure  that  some 
idea  of  needing  them  hadn't  always  been 
in  her  head,  —  applied  for  a  place  under 
her  former  manager,  wlio  was  then  boss- 
ing a  hotel  in  Kensington,  and  got  it. 
And  there  was  an  end  of  high  life  so  far 
as  she  was  concerned. 

"As  for  him,  he  went   the   usual  way. 


The  Probation  of  James  Wrench     i  29 

It  ahvays  seems  to  me  as  if  men  and 
women  were  just  like  water;  sooner  or 
later  they  get  back  to  the  level  from 
which  they  started  —  that  is,  of  course, 
generally  speaking.  Here  and  there  a 
drop  clings  where  it  climbs;  but,  taking 
them  on  the  whole,  pumping-up  is  a  slow 
business.  Lord !  I  have  seen  them,  many 
of  them,  jolly  clever  they  've  thought  them- 
selves, with  their  diamond  rings  and  big 
cigars.  'Wait  a  bit,'  I've  always  said  to 
myself,  '  there  '11  come  a  day  when  you  '11 
walk  in  and  be  glad  enough  of  your  chop 
and  potatoes  again  with  your  half-pint  of 
bitter.'  And  nine  cases  out  of  ten  I  've 
been  right.  James  Wrench  followed  the 
course  of  the  majority,  only  a  little  more 
so:  tried  to  do  others  a  precious  sight 
sharper  than  himself,  and  got  done;  tried 
a  dozen  times  to  scramble  up  again,  each 


130     The  Probation  of  James  Wrench 

time  coming  down  heavier  than  before,  till 
there  wasn't  another  spring  left  in  him, 
and  his  only  ambition  victuals.  Then,  of 
course,  he  thought  of  his  wife  —  it 's  a 
wonderful  domesticator,  ill  luck  —  and  won- 
dered what  she  was  doing. 

"  Fortunately  for  him,  she  'd  been  doing 
well.  Her  father  died  and  left  her  a  bit, 
just  a  couple  of  hundred  or  so,  and  with 
this  and  her  own  savings  she  started  with 
a  small  inn  in  a  growing  town,  and  had 
sold  out  again  three  years  later  at  four 
times  what  she  had  paid  for  it.  She 
had  done  even  better  than  that  for 
herself.  She  had  developed  a  talent  for 
cookinui;  —  that  was  a  settled  income  in 
itself,  —  and  at  this  time  was  runnmg 
a  small  hotel  in  Brighton,  and  making 
it  pay  to  a  tune  that  would  have  made 
the   shareholders    of    some   of    its   bigger 


The  Probation  of  James  Wrench     i  3 1 

rivals  a  bit  envious  could  they  have 
known. 

"  He  came  to  me,  having  found  out, 
I  don't  know  how  —  necessity  smartens 
the  wits,  I  suppose,  —  that  my  missis 
still  kept  up  a  sort  of  friendship  with 
her,  and  begged  me  to  try  and  arrange 
a  meeting  between  them,  which  I  did, 
though  I  told  him  frankly  that  from 
what  I  knew  his  welcome  would  n't  be 
much  more  enthusiastic  than  what  he  'd 
any  right  to  expect.  But  he  was  always 
of  a  sanguine  disposition ;  and  borrow- 
ing his  fare  and  an  old  greatcoat  of 
mine,  he  started  off,  evidently  thinking 
that  all  his  troubles  were  over. 

"But  they  weren't  exactly.  The  Mar- 
ried Women's  Property  Act  had  altered 
things  a  bit,  and  Master  James  found 
himself  greeted  without  any  suggestion  of 


132     The  Probation  of  James  Wrench 

tenderness  by  a  business-like  woman  of 
thirty-six  or  thereabouts,  and  told  to 
wait  in  the  room  behind  the  bar  till  she 
could  find  time  to  talk  to  him. 

"  She  kept  him  waiting  there  for  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour,  just  sufficient  time 
to  take  the  side  out  of  him;  and  then 
she  walks  in  and  closes  the  door  behind 
her. 

"  '  I  'd  say  you  had  n't  changed  hardly 
a  day,  Susan,'  says  he,  '  if  it  was  n't  that 
you'd  grown  handsomer  than  ever.' 

"I  guess  he'd  been  turning  that  over 
in  his  mind  during  the  three-quarters  of 
an  hour.  It  was  his  fancy  that  he  knew 
a  bit  about  women. 

"  '  My  name  's  Mrs.  Wrench,'  says  she  ; 
*  and  if  you  take  your  hat  off  and  stand 
up  while  I  'ill  talkmg  to  you  it  will  be 
more  what  I  'm  accustomed  to.' 


The  Probation  of  James  Wrench     133 

"  "Well,  that  staggered  him  a  bit  -,  but 
there  didn't  seem  anything  else  to  be 
done,  so  he  just  made  as  if  he  thought 
it  funny,  though  I  doubt  if  at  the  time 
he  saw  the  full  humour  of  it. 

"^And  now,  what  do  you  want?'  says 
she,  seating  herself  in  front  of  her  desk, 
and  leaving  him  standing,  first  on  one 
leg  and  then  on  the  other,  twiddling  his 
hat  in  his  hands. 

"  *  I  've  been  a  bad  husband  to  you, 
Susan,'  begins  he. 

"^I  could  have  told  you  that,'  she 
answers.  *What  I  asked  you  was  what 
you  wanted.' 

" '  I  want  for  us  to  let  bygones  be  by- 
gones,' says  he. 

"  '  That 's  quite  my  own  idea,'  says  she, 
'and  if  you  don't  allude  to  the  past,  I 
shan't.' 


I  34     The  Probation  of  James  Wrench 

"  '  You  're  an  angel,  Susan/  says  he. 

" '  I  've  told  you  once,'  answers  she, 
Hhat  my  name's  Mrs.  Wrench.  I'm 
Susan  to  my  friends,  not  to  every  broken- 
down  tramp  looking  for  a  job.' 

"^ Ain't  I  your  husband?'  says  he, 
trying  a  bit  of  dignity. 

"  She  got  up  and  took  a  glance  through 
the  glass-door  to  see  that  nobody  was 
there  to  overhear  her. 

"  ^  For  the  first  and  last  time,'  says  she, 
*  let  you  and  me  understand  one  another. 
I  've  been  eleven  years  without  a  husband, 
and  I  've  got  used  to  it.  I  don't  feel 
now  as  I  want  one  of  any  kind,  and 
if  I  did  it  would  n't  be  your  sort.  Eleven 
years  ago  I  wasn't  good  enough  for 
you,  and  now  you're  not  good  enough 
for  me.' 

"  '  I  want  to  reform,'  says  he. 


The  Probation  of  James  Wrench     135 

" '  I  want  to  see  you  do  it/  says  she. 

"  *  Give  me  a  chance/  says  he. 

"  <  I  'm  going  to/  says  she ;  '  but  it 's 
going  to  be  my  experiment  this  time,  not 
yours.  Eleven  years  ago  I  didn't  give 
you  satisfaction,  so  you  turned  me  out 
of  doors.' 

"  *  You  went,  Susan/  says  he ;  '  you 
know  it  was  your  own  idea.' 

" '  Don't  you  remind  me  too  much  of 
the  circumstances/  rephes  she,  turning  on 
him  with  a  look  in  her  eyes  that  was 
probably  new  to  him.  '  I  went  because 
there  wasn't  room  for  two  of  us;  you 
know  that.  The  other  kind  suited  you 
better.  Now  I'm  going  to  see  whether 
you  suit  me,'  and  she  sits  herself  again 
in  her  landlady's  chair. 

"  '  In  what  way  ? '  says  he. 

" '  In  the  way  of  earning  your  living/ 


136     The  Probation  of  James  Wrench 

says  she,  ^  and  starting  on  the  road  to 
becoming  a  decent  member  of  society.' 

"  He  stood  for  a  while  cogitating. 

^'^  Don't  you  think,'  says  he  at  last, 
*  as  I  could  manage  this  hotel  for  you  ? ' 

"'Thanks,'  says  she;  'I'm  doing  that 
myself.' 

"'What  about  looking  to  the  financial 
side  of  things,'  says  he,  'and  keeping  the 
accounts?     It's  hardly  your  work.' 

" '  Nor  yours  either,'  answers  she  drily, 
'  judging  by  the  way  you  've  been  keepmg 
your  own.' 

'"You  wouldn't  like  me  to  be  head- 
waiter,  I  suppose  ? '  says  he.  '  It  would 
be  a  bit  of  a  come-do^vn.' 

" '  You  're  thinking  of  the  hotel,  I  sup- 
pose,' says  she.  '  Perhaps  you  arc  right. 
My  customers  are  mostly  an  old-fashioned 
class;    it's    probable    enough    they   niiglit 


The  Probation  of  James  Wrench     i  37 

not  like  you.  You  had  better  suggest 
something  else.' 

" '  I  could  hardly  be  an  under-waiter/ 
says  he. 

"  '  Perhaps  not/  says  she ;  *  your  man- 
ners strike  me  as  a  bit  too  familiar  for 
that.' 

"  Then  he  thought  he  'd  try  sarcasm. 

"  ^  Perhaps  you  'd  fancy  my  being  the 
boots,'   says  he. 

"  *  That 's  more  reasonable/  says  she. 
*  You  could  n't  do  much  harm  there,  and 
I  could  keep  an  eye  on  you.' 

"  ^  You  really  mean  that  ? '  says  he, 
starting   to   put   on   his   dignity. 

"But  she  cut  him  short  by  ringing  the 
bell. 

"  ^  If  you  think  you  can  do  better  for 
yourself,'  she  says,  '  there  's  an  end  of  it. 
By  a  curious  coincidence  the  place  is  just 


138     The  Probation  of  James  Wrench 

now  vacant.  I  '11  keep  it  open  for  you 
till  to-morrow  night;  you  can  turn  it 
over  in  your  mind.'  And  one  of  the 
page  boys  coming  in  she  just  says  ^  Good- 
morning,'  and  the  interview  was  at  an 
end. 

"  Well,  he  turned  it  over,  and  he  took 
the  job.  He  thought  she  'd  relent  after 
the  first  week  or  two,  but  she  didn't. 
He  just  kept  that  place  for  over  fifteen 
months,  and  learnt  the  business.  In  the 
house  he  was  James  the  boots,  and  she 
Mrs.  Wrench  the  landlady,  and  she  saw 
to  it  that  he  did  n't  forget  it.  He  had 
his  wages  and  he  made  his  tips,  and 
the  food  was  plentiful ;  but  I  take  it  he 
worked  harder  during  that  time  than 
he  'd  ever  worked  before  in  his  life,  and 
found  that  a  landlady  is  just  twice  as 
difficult   to   please   as    the    strictest    land- 


The  Probation  of  James  Wrench     i  39 

lord  it  can  be  a  man's  misfortune  to  get 
under,  and  that  Mrs.  Wrench  was  no 
exception    to    the    rule. 

"At  the  end  of  the  fifteen  months  she 
sends  for  him  into  the  office.  He  did  n't 
want  telling  by  this  time ;  he  just  stood 
with  his  hat  in  his  hand  and  waited 
respectful    like. 

"  '  James,'  says  she,  after  she  had 
finished  what  she  was  doing,  '  I  find  I 
shall  want  another  waiter  for  the  coffee- 
room  this  season.  Would  you  care  to 
try    the    place  ? ' 

" '  Thank  you,  Mrs.  Wrench,'  he  an- 
swers ;  '  it 's  more  what  I  've  been  used 
to,  and  I  think  I  '11  be  able  to  give 
satisfaction.' 

"  *  There 's  no  wages  attached,  as  I 
suppose  you  know,'  continues  she ;  *  but 
the  second  floor  goes  with  it,  and  if  you 


1 40     The  Probation  of  James  Wrench 

know  your  business  you  ought  to  make 
from  twenty-five  to  thirty  shilhngs  a 
week.' 

"'Thank  you,  Mrs.  Wrench j  that'll 
suit  me  very  well,'  replies  he;  and  it 
was    settled. 

"He  did  better  as  a  waiter;  he'd  got 
it  in  his  blood,  as  you  might  say ;  and  so 
after  a  time  he  worked  up  to  be  head- 
waiter.  Now  and  then,  of  course,  it 
came  about  that  he  found  himself  wait- 
ing on  the  very  folks  that  he  'd  been 
chums  with  in  his  classy  days,  and  that 
must  have  been  a  bit  rough  on  him. 
But  he  'd  taken  in  a  good  deal  of  sense 
since  then ;  and  when  one  of  the  old 
sort,  all  rings  and  shirt-front,  dining 
there  one  Sunday  evening,  started  chaff- 
ing liiiu,  Jiunny  just  shut  him  up  with 
a   quiet :  '  Yes,    I   guess  we    were   both   a 


The  Probation  of  James  Wrench     141 

bit  out  of  our  place  in  those  days.  The 
difference  between  us  now  is  that  I  have 
got  back  to  mine,'  which  cost  him  his  tip, 
but  must  have  been  a  satisfaction  to  him. 

"Altogether  he  worked  in  that  hotel 
for  some  three  and  a  half  years,  and 
then  Mrs.  Wrench  sends  for  him  again 
into   the   office. 

"  ^  Sit  down,  James,'  says  she. 

"  '^  Thank  you,  Mrs.  Wrench,'  says 
James,    and    sat. 

"  '  I  'm  thinking  of  giving  up  this  hotel, 
James,'  says  she,  '  and  taking  another  near 
Dover,  a  quiet  place  with  just  such  a  clien- 
tele as  I  shall  like.  Do  you  care  to  come 
with  me  ? ' 

"  ^  Thank  you,'  says  he,  '  but  I  'm  think- 
ing, Mrs.  Wrench,  of  making  a  change 
myself.' 

"  ^  Oh,'  says  she,  *  I  'm  sorry  to  hear  that, 


142     The  Probation  of  James  Wrench 


James.     I  thought  we'd   been  getting  on 
very  well  together.' 

" '  I  've  tried  to  do  my  best,  Mrs.  Wrench,' 
says  he,  ^  and  I  hope  as  I  've  given  satis- 
faction.' 

"  *  I  've  nothing  to  complain  of,  James,' 
says  she. 

"'I  thank  j^ou  for  saying  it,'  says  he, 
'and  I  thank  you  for  the  opportunity  you 
gave  me  when  I  wanted  it.  It 's  been  the 
making  of  me.' 

"  She  did  n't  answer  for  about  a  minute. 
Then  says  she : 

" '  You  've  been  meeting  some  of  your  old 
friends,  James,  I'm  afraid,  and  they've 
been  persuadmg  you  to  go  back  into  the 
City.' 

'' '  No,  Mrs.  Wrench,'  says  he ;  ^  no  more 
City  for  me,  and  no  more  neighbourliood  of 
Grosvenor  Square,  unless  it  be  in  the  way 


The  Probation  of  James  Wrench     143 

of  business  ;  and  that  could  n't  be,  of  course, 
for  a  good  long  while  to  come.' 

"  '  What  do  you  mean  by  business  ?  '  asks 
she. 

"  *  The  hotel  business,'  replies  he.  '  I 
believe  I  know  the  bearings  by  now.  I  've 
saved  a  bit,  thanks  to  you,  Mrs.  Wrench, 
and  a  bit 's  come  in  from  the  wreck  that  I 
never  hoped  for.' 

" '  Enough  to  start  you  ? '  asks  she. 

"  ^  Not  quite  enough  for  that,'  answers  he. 
^  My  idea  is  a  small  partnership.' 

"  ^  How  much  is  it  altogether  ?  '  says  she, 
*  if  it 's  not  an  impertinent  question.' 

"  '•  Not  at  all,'  answers  he.  '■  It  tots  up 
to  £900  about.' 

"  She  turns  back  to  her  desk  and  goes  on 
with  her  writing. 

"  '■  Dover  would  n't  suit  you,  I  suppose  ? ' 
says  she  without  looking  round. 


144     The  Probation  of  James  Wrench 

"  *  Dover 's  all  right/  says  he,  '  if  the 
business  is  a  good  one.' 

"  *  It  can  be  worked  up  into  one  of  the 
best  things  going,'  says  she,  ^  and  I  'm  get- 
ting it  dirt  cheap.  You  can  have  a  third 
share  for  a  thousand  pounds,  that's  just 
what  it's  costing,  and  owe  me  the  other 
hundred.' 

" '  And  what  position  do  I  take  ? ' 
says  he. 

" '  If  you  come  in  on  those  terms,'  says 
she,  *  then,  of  course,  it 's  a  partnership.' 

"  He  rose  and  came  over  to  her.  *  Life 
isn't  aU  business,  Susan,'  says  he. 

"  '  I  've  found  it  so  mostly,'  says  she. 

*' '  Fourteen  years  ago,'  says  he,  '  I  made 
the  mistake  ;  now  you  're  making  it.' 

"  '  What  mistake  am  I  making  ?  '  says 
she. 

" '  That  man 's  the  only  thing  as  can't 
learn  a  lesson,'  says  he. 


The  Probation  of  James  Wrench     145 

"  '  Oh/  says  she,  '  and  what 's  the  lesson 
that  you  've  learnt  ? ' 

"  *  That  I  never  get  on  without  you, 
Susan/  says  he. 

"  '  Well/  says  she,  '^you  suggested  a  part- 
nership, and  I  agreed  to  it.  What  more  do 
you  want  ? ' 

"  '  I  want  to  know  the  name  of  the  firm,' 
says  he. 

"'Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wrench/  says  she, 
turning  round  to  him  and  holding  out  her 
hand.     *  How  will  that  suit  you  ? ' 

"  *  That  '11  do  me  all  right,'  answers 
he.  '  And  I  '11  try  and  give  satisfaction,' 
adds  he. 

"  *  I  believe  you,'  says  she. 

''  And  in  that  way  they  made  a  fresh 
start,  as  it  were." 


10 


The  U^ooing  of  Tom 
Sleight's  Wife 


The  Wooing  of  Tom 
Sleight's  ^(/^ 

"TT'S  competition,"  replied  Henry, 
I  "  that  makes  the  world  go  round. 
You  never  want  a  thing  particularly 
until  you  see  another  fellow  trying  to 
get  it;  then  it  strikes  you  all  of  a  sudden 
that  you  've  a  better  right  to  it  than  he 
has.  Take  barmaids  :  what 's  the  attrac- 
tion about  'em  ?  In  looks  they  're  no 
better  than  the  average  girl  in  the  street; 
while  as  for  their  temper,  well  that's  a 
bit  above  the  average  —  leastways,  so  far 
as  my  experience  goes.  Yet  the  thinnest 
of  'em  has  her  dozen,  making  sheep's-eyes 
at   her   across   the   counter.     I  've    known 


150     Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife 

girls  that  on  the  level  could  n't  have  got 
a  policeman  to  look  at  'em.  Put  'em 
behind  a  row  of  tumblers  and  a  shilling's- 
worth  of  stale  pastry,  and  nothing  outside 
a  Lincoln  and  Bennett  is  good  enough 
for  'em.  It 's  the  competition  that 's  the 
making  of  'em. 

"  Now,  I  '11  tell  you  a  story,"  con- 
tinued Henry,  "that  bears  upon  the  sub- 
ject. It's  a  pretty  story,  if  you  look  at 
it  from  one  point  of  view ;  though  my 
wife  maintains  —  and  she 's  a  bit  of  a 
judge,  mind  you  —  that  it 's  not  yet 
finished,  she  arguing  that  there 's  a  differ- 
ence between  marrying  and  being  mar- 
ried. You  can  have  a  fancy  for  the  one, 
without  caring  much  about  the  other. 
What  I  tell  her  is  that  a  boy  is  n't  a 
man,  and  a  man  is  n't  a  boy.  Besides, 
it 's  five  years  ago  now,  and  nothing  has 


Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife      151 

happened  since :  though  of  course  one  can 
never  say." 

"  I  would  like  to  hear  the  story,"  I 
ventured  to  suggest  j  "  I  '11  be  able  to 
judge  better  afterwards." 

"  It 's  not  a  long  one,"  replied  Henry, 
"  though  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  began 
seventeen  years  ago  in  Portsmouth,  New 
Hampshire.  He  was  a  wild  young  fellow, 
and  always  had  been." 

"  Who  was  ?"  I  interrupted. 

"  Tom  Sleight,"  answered  Henry,  "  the 
chap  I'm  telling  you  about.  He  be- 
longed to  a  good  family,  his  father  being 
a  Magistrate  for  Monmouthshire ;  but 
there  had  been  no  doing  anything  with 
young  Tom  from  the  very  first.  At 
fifteen  he  ran  away  from  school  at  Clifton, 
and  with  everything  belonging  to  him 
tied    up   in   a    pocket-handkerchief    made 


152     Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife 


his     way    to    Bristol    Docks.     There    he 
shipped   as    boy   on   board    an    American 
schooner,  the  Cap'n  not  pressing  for  any 
particulars,    being    short-handed,    and    the 
boy     himself     not     volunteering     much. 
Whether    his    folks    made    much    of    an 
effort  to  get  him   back,  or  whether  they 
didn't,   I    can't   tell    you.      Maybe,    they 
thought  a  little  roughing  it  would  knock 
some  sense  into  him.     Anyhow,  the   fact 
remains  that  for  the  next  seven  or  eight 
years,  until  the  sudden  death  of  his  father 
made   him  a   country   gentleman,  a  more 
or   less   jolly   sailor-man    he    continued  to 
be.     And    it   was    during    that   period  — 
to  be  exact,  three  years  after  he  ran  away 
and  four  years  before  he  returned  —  that, 
as    I    have    said,    at    Portsmouth,    New 
Hampsliirc,    he   married,    after    ten    days' 
courtship,    Mary    Godsellc,    only   daughter 


Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife      153 

of  Jean  Godselle,  saloon  keeper  of  that 
town." 

"  That  makes  him  just  eighteen,"  I 
remarked ;  "  somewhat  young  for  a  bride- 
groom." 

"  But  a  good  deal  older  than  the  bride," 
was  Henry's  comment,  "  she  being  at 
the  time  a  few  months  over  fourteen." 

"  Was  it  legal  ?  "  I  enquired. 

"  Quite  legal,"  answered  Henry.  "  In 
New  Hampshire,  it  would  seem,  they 
encourage  early  marriages.  'Can't  begin 
a  good  thing  too  soon,'  is,  I  suppose, 
their   motto." 

"  How  did  the  marriage  turn  out  ? " 
was  my  next  question.  The  married  life 
of  a  lady  and  gentleman,  the  united  ages 
of  whom  amounted  to  thirty-two,  promised 
interesting  developments. 

"Practically   speaking,"    replied   Henry, 


154     Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife 

"it  wasn't  a  marriage  at  all.  It  had 
been  a  secret  affair  from  the  beginning, 
as  perhaps  you  can  imagine.  The  old 
man  had  other  ideas  for  his  daughter, 
and  was  n't  the  sort  of  father  to  be 
played  with.  They  separated  at  the 
church  door,  intending  to  meet  again  in 
the  evening.  Two  hours  later  Master 
Tom  Sleight  got  knocked  on  the  head 
in  a  street  brawl.  If  a  row  was  to  be 
had  anywhere  within  walking  distance  he 
was  the  sort  of  fellow  to  be  in  it.  When 
he  came  to  his  senses  he  found  himself 
lying  in  his  bunk,  and  the  '  Susan  Pride  ' 
—  if  that  was  the  name  of  the  ship ;  I 
think  it  was  —  ten  miles  out  to  sea.  The 
Captain  declined  to  put  the  vessel  about 
to  please  either  a  loving  seaman  or  a 
loving  seaman's  wife ;  and  to  come  to 
the  point,  the  next  time  Mr.  Tom  Sleight 


Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife      155 

saw  Mrs.  Tom  Sleight  was  seven  years 
later  at  the  American  bar  of  the  Grand 
Central  in  Paris ;  and  then  he  did  n't 
know   her." 

"  But  what  had  she  been  doing  all  the 
time  ? "  I  queried.  "  Do  you  mean  to 
tell  me  that  she,  a  married  woman,  had 
been  content  to  let  her  husband  disap- 
pear without  making  any  attempt  to 
trace    him  ?  " 

"  I  was  making  it  short,"  retorted 
Henry,  in  an  injured  tone,  "  for  your 
benefit ;  if  you  want  to  have  the  whole 
of  it,  of  course  you  can.  He  was  n't  a 
scamp ;  he  was  just  a  scatterbrain  —  that 
was  the  worst  you  could  say  against  him. 
He  tried  to  communicate  with  her,  but 
never  got  an  answer.  Then  he  wrote  to 
the  father,  and  told  him  frankly  the 
whole   story.     The    letter   came   back   six 


156     Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife 

months  later,  marked  —  '  Gone  away ; 
left  no  address.'  You  see,  what  had 
happened  was  this :  the  old  man  died 
suddenly  a  month  or  two  after  the  mar- 
riage, without  ever  having  heard  a  word 
about  it.  The  girl  had  n't  a  relative  or 
friend  in  the  town,  all  her  folks  being 
French  Canadians.  She  'd  got  her  pride, 
and  she'd  got  a  sense  of  humour  not 
common  in  a  woman.  I  was  with  her 
at  the  Grand  Central  for  over  a  year, 
and  came  to  know  her  pretty  well.  She 
didn't  choose  to  advertise  the  fact  that 
her  husband  had  run  away  from  her, 
as  she  thouglit,  an  hour  after  he  had 
married  her.  She  knew  he  was  a  gentle- 
man with  rich  relatives  somewhere  in 
England ;  and  as  the  months  went  l)y 
without  l)ringing  word  or  sign  of  liim, 
she    concluded    he  W    thought   the   matter 


Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife      157 

over  and  was  asliamed  of  her.  You 
must  remember  she  was  merely  a  child 
at  the  time,  and  hardly  understood  her 
position.  Maybe  later  on  she  would  have 
seen  the  necessity  of  doing  something. 
But  Chance,  as  it  were,  saved  her  the 
trouble ;  for  she  had  not  been  serving  in 
the  Cafe  more  than  a  month  when,  early 
one  afternoon,  in  walked  her  Lord  and 
Master.  ^  Mam'sel  Marie,'  as  of  course 
we  called  her  over  there,  was  at  that 
moment  busy  talking  to  two  customers, 
while  smiling  at  a  third ;  and  our  hero, 
he  gave  a  start  the  moment  he  set  eyes 
on  her." 

"You  told  me  that  when  he  saw  her 
there  he  did  n't  know  her,"  I  reminded 
Henry. 

"  Quite  right,  sir,"  replied  Henry,  "  so 
I  did ;  but  he   knew   a   pretty  girl   when 


158      Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife 

he  saw  one  anywhere  at  any  time  —  he 
was  that  sort,  and  a  prettier,  saucier 
looking  young  personage  than  Marie,  in 
spite  of  her  misfortunes,  as  I  suppose 
you  'd  call  'em,  you  would  n't  have  found 
had  you  searched  Paris  from  the  Place 
de  la  Bastille  to  the  Arc  de  Triomphe." 

"  Did  she,"  I  asked,  "  know  him,  or 
was  the  forgetfiilness  mutual?" 

"  She  recognised  him,"  returned  Henry, 
"  before  he  entered  the  Cafe,  owing  to 
catching  sight  of  his  face  through  the 
glass  door  while  he  was  trying  to  find  the 
handle.  Women  on  some  points  have 
better  memories  than  men.  Added  to 
which,  when  you  come  to  think  of  it,  the 
game  was  a  bit  one-sided.  Except  that 
liis  moustache,  maybe,  was  a  little  more 
imposing,  and  tluit  lie  wore  the  clothes  of 
a  gentleman  in  place  of  those  of  an  able- 


Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife      159 

bodied  seaman  before  the  mast,  he  was 
to  all  intents  and  purposes  the  same  as 
when  they  parted  six  years  ago  outside 
the  church  door ;  while  she  had  changed 
from  a  child  in  a  short  muslin  frock  and 
a  '  flapper,'  as  I  believe  they  call  it,  tied 
up  in  blue  ribbon,  to  a  self-possessed 
young  woman  in  a  frock  that  might  have 
come  out  of  a  Bond  Street  show  window, 
and  a  Japanese  coiffure,  that  being  then 
the  fashion. 

"  She  finished  with  her  French  cus- 
tomers, not  hurrying  herself  in  the  least 
—  that  wasn't  her  way;  and  then  strol- 
ling over  to  her  husband,  asked  him  in 
French  what  she  could  have  the  pleasure 
of  doing  for  him.  His  education  on  board 
the  '^  Susan  Pride  '  and  others  had,  I  take 
it,  gone  back  rather  than  forward.  He 
couldn't  understand  her,  so  she  translated 


i6o     Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife 

it  for  him  into  broken  Enghsh,  with  an 
accent.  He  asked  her  how  she  knew  he 
was  Enghsh.  She  told  him  it  was  be- 
cause Englishmen  had  such  pretty  mous- 
taches, and  came  back  with  his  order, 
which  was  rum  punch.  She  kept  him 
waiting  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  be- 
fore she  returned  with  it.  He  filled  up 
the  time  looking  into  the  glass  behind 
him  when  he  thought  nobody  was  ob- 
serving him. 

"  One  American  drink,  as  they  used  to 
concoct  it  in  that  bar,  was  generally 
enough  for  most  of  our  customers,  but 
he,  before  he  left,  contrived  to  put  away 
three ;  also  contriving,  during  the  same 
short  space  of  time,  to  inform  '  Mam'sel 
Marie'  that  Paris,  since  he  had  looked 
into  her  eyes,  had  become  the  only  town 
worth   livmg    in,  so   far   as   he   was   con- 


Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife      i6i 

cerned,  throughout  the  whole  universe. 
He  had  his  failings,  had  Master  Tom 
Sleight,  but  shyness  was  n't  one  of  them. 
She  gave  him  a  smile  when  he  left  that 
would  have  brought  a  less  impression- 
able young  man  than  he  back  again  to 
that  Cafe ;  but  for  the  rest  of  the  day 
I  noticed  ^Mam'sel  Marie'  frowned  to  her- 
self a  good  deal,  and  was  quite  unu- 
sually cynical  in  hei  view  of  things  in 
general. 

"  Next  afternoon  he  found  his  way  to 
us  again,  and  much  the  same  sort  of  thing 
went  on,  only  a  little  more  of  it.  A  sailor- 
man,  so  I  am  told,  makes  love  with  his 
hour  of  departure  always  before  his  mind, 
and  so  gets  into  the  habit  of  not  wasting 
time.  He  gave  her  short  lessons  in  Eng- 
lish, for  which  she  appeared  to  be  grateful, 

and   she   at    his   request   taught   him    the 

11 


1 62     Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife 

French   for   ^  You   are    just   charming !    I 
love   you  ! '  with  which,  so  he  explained, 
it   was    his    intention,    on    his   return    to 
England,    to    surprise    his    mother.       He 
turned    up   again    after    dinner,    and    the 
next   day  before   lunch.     After  that   if    I 
looked   up   and   missed    him   at   his  usual 
table,  the  feeling  would  come  to  me  that 
business  was  going  down.     Marie   always 
appeared  delighted  to  see  him,  and  pouted 
when  he  left ;  but  what  puzzled  me  at  the 
time  was,   that  though  she  fooled  him  to 
the  top  of  his  bent,  she  flirted  every  bit 
as   much,   if    not    more,    with    her    other 
customers  —  leastways  with  the  nicer  ones 
among    them.       There    was    one    young 
Frenchman  in  particular — a  good-looking 
chap,  a   Monsieur   Flammard,  son  -of   the 
painter.     Up  till  then  he  'd   been  making 
love    pretty   steadily   to    Miss    Marie,   as, 


"SIIK    KI.Ii;li;i)    i;\Kl!Y    hit  as  Mllll    WITH    lll.K    OTIIKK    CI  ST(  )M  KIIS. 


Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife      163 

indeed,  had  most  of  'em,  without  ever 
getting  much  f orrarder ;  for  hitherto  a 
chat  about  the  weather,  and  a  smile  that 
might  have  meant  she  was  in  love  with 
you  or  might  have  meant  she  was  laugh- 
ing at  you  —  no  man  could  ever  tell 
which,  —  was  all  the  most  persistent  had 
got  out  of  her.  Now,  however,  and 
evidently  to  his  own  surprise,  young 
Monsieur  Flammard  found  himself  in 
clover.  Provided  his  English  rival  hap- 
pened to  be  present  and  not  too  far  re- 
moved, he  could  have  as  much  flirtation 
as  he  wanted,  which,  you  may  take  it, 
worked  out  at  a  very  tolerable  amount. 
Master  Tom  could  sit  and  scowl,  and  for 
the  matter  of  that  did;  but  as  Marie 
would  explain  to  him,  always  with  the 
sweetest  of  smiles,  her  business  was  to  be 
nice  to  all  her  customers,  and  to  this,  of 


164     Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife 

course,  he  had  nothing  to  reply  :  that  he 
could  n't  understand  a  word  of  what  she 
and  Flammard  talked  and  laughed  about 
didn't  seem  to  make  him  any  the 
happier. 

"Well,  this  sort  of  thing  went  on  for 
perhaps  a  fortnight,  and  then  one  morning 
over  our  dejeune,  when  she  and  I  had  the 
Cafe  entirely  to  ourselves,  I  took  the 
opportunity  of  talking  to  Mam'sel  Marie 
like  a  father. 

"She  heard  me  out  without  a  murmur, 
which  showed  her  sense;  for  liking  the 
girl  sincerely,  I  did  n't  mince  matters  with 
her,  but  spoke  plainly  for  her  good.  The 
result  was,  she  told  me  her  story  much 
as  I  have  told  it  to  you. 

"  ^  It 's  a  funny  tale,'  says  I  when  she  'd 
finished,  '  though  maybe  you  yourself 
don't  see  the  humour  of    it.' 


Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife      165 

"'Yes,  I  do,'  was  her  answer.  'But 
there's  a  serious  side  to  it  also/  says  she, 
'  and  that  interests  me  more.' 

"  '  You  're  sure  you  're  not  making  a 
mistake?'  I  suggested. 

" '  He  's  been  in  my  thoughts  too  mucli 
for  me  to  forget  him,'  she  replied.  'Be- 
sides, he 's  told  me  his  name  and  all 
about  himself.' 

" '  Not  quite  all,'  says  I. 

"'No,  and  that's  why  I  feel  hard 
toward  him,'  answers  she, 

" '  Now  you  listen  to  me,'  says  I. 
'This  is  a  very  pretty  comedy,  and  the 
way  you've  played  it  does  you  credit  up 
till  now.  Don't  you  run  it  on  too  long, 
and  turn  it  into  a  problem  play.' 

" '  How  d'  ye  mean  ? '  says  she. 

" '  A  man 's  a  man,'  says  I ;  '  anyhow 
he's  one.     He  fell  in  love  with   you  six 


i66     Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife 

years  ago  when  you  were  only  a  child, 
and  now  you  're  a  woman  he 's  fallen  in 
love  with  you  again.  If  that  don't  con- 
vince you  of  his  constancy,  nothing  will. 
You  stop  there.  Don't  you  try  to  find 
out  any  more/ 

"*I  mean  to  find  out  one  thing/ 
answers  she :  '  whether  he 's  a  man  —  or 
a  cad.' 

" '  That 's  a  severe  remark,'  says  I,  *  to 
make  about  your  own  husband.' 

"  ^  What  am  I  to  think  ? '  says  she. 
'  He  fooled  me  into  loving  him  when,  as 
you  say,  I  was  only  a  child.  Do  you 
think  I  haven't  suffered  all  these  years? 
It's  the  girl  that  cries  her  eyes  out  for 
her  lover ;  we  learn  to  take  'em  for  what 
they're  worth  later  on.' 

" '  But  he 's  in  love  with  you  still,'  I 
says.     I  knew  what  was  in  her  mind,  but 


Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife      167 

I  wanted  to  lead  her  away  from  it  if  I 
could. 

"^That's  a  lie/  says  she,  *and  you 
know  it.'  She  wasn't  choosing  her 
words;  she  was  feeling,  if  you  imder- 
stand.  '  He 's  in  love  with  a  pretty 
waitress  that  he  met  for  the  first  time 
a  fortnight  ago.' 

" '  That 's  because  she  reminds  him  of 
you,'  I  replied,  ^or  because  you  remind 
him  of  her,  whichever  you  prefer.  It 
shows  you're  the  sort  of  woman  he'll 
always  be  falling  in  love  with.' 

"  She  laughed  at  that,  but  the  next 
moment  she  was  serious  again.  '  A  man 's 
got  to  fall  out  of  love  before  he  falls  into 
it  again,'  she  replied.  '  I  want  a  man 
that'll  stop  there.  Besides,'  she  goes  on, 
*  a  woman  is  n't  always  young  and  pretty : 
we've  got  to  remember   that.     We  want 


1 68      Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife 

something  else  in  a  husband  besides 
eyes.' 

"^You  seem  to  know  a  lot  about  it,' 
says  I. 

" '  I  've  thought  a  lot  about  it/  says  she. 

"  ^  What  sort  of  husband  do  you  want  ? ' 
says  I. 

"  ^  I  want  a  man  of  honour,'  says  she. 

"  That  was  sense.  One  don't  often  find 
a  girl'  her  age  talking  it,  but  her  life  had 
made  her  older  than  she  looked.  All  I 
could  find  to  say  was  that  he  appeared 
to  be  an  honest  chap,  and  maybe  was 
one. 

"* Maybe,'  says  she;  'that's  what  I 
mean  to  find  out.  And  if  you'll  do  me 
a  kmdncss,'  she  adds,  'you  won't  mind 
calling  me  Marie  Luthicr  for  the  future, 
instead  of  Godselle.  It  was  my  mother's 
name,  and  I  'vc  a  fancy  for  it.' 


Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife      169 

"  Well,  there  I  left  her  to  work  out  the 
thing  for  herself,  having  come  to  the  con- 
clusion she  was  capable  of  doing  it;  and 
so  for  another  couple  of  weeks  I  merely 
watched.  There  was  no  doubt  about  his 
being  in  love  with  her.  He  had  entered 
that  Cafe  at  the  beginning  of  the  month 
with  as  good  an  opinion  of  himself  as  a 
man  can  conveniently  carry  without  tum- 
bling down  and  falling  over  it.  Before  the 
month  was  out  he  would  sit  with  his  head 
between  his  hands,  evidently  wondering 
why  he  had  been  born.  I  've  seen  the  game 
played  before,  and  I  've  seen  it  played  since. 
A  waiter  has  plenty  of  opportunities  if  he 
only  makes  use  of  them  ;  for  if  it  comes  to 
a  matter  of  figures,  I  suppose  there 's  more 
love-making  done  in  a  month  under  the 
electric  light  of  the  restaurant  than  the 
moon  sees  in  a  year  —  leastways,  so  far  as 


I/O     Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife 


concerns  what  we  call  the  civilised  world. 
I've  seen  men  fooled,  from  boys  without 
hair  on  their   faces,    to  old   men  without 
much  on  their  heads.     I  've  seen  it  done  in 
a  way  that  was  pretty  to  watch,  and  I  've 
seen  it  done  in  a  manner  that  has  made  me 
feel  that  given  a  wig  and  a  petticoat  I  could 
do  it  better  myself.     But  never  have  I  seen 
it  neater  played  than  Marie  played  it  on 
that   young   man   of   hers.     One    day  she 
would  greet  him  for  all  the  world  like  a 
tired  child  that  at  last  has  found  its  mother, 
and  the  next  day  respond  to  him  in  a  style 
calculated  to  give  you  the  idea  of  a  small- 
sized   empress  in  misfortune   compelled  to 
tolerate    the  familiarities  of  an  anarchist. 
One  moment  she  would  throw  him  a  pout 
that  said  as  clearly  as  words  :  '  What  a  fool 
you  are  not  to  put  your  arms  round  me  and 
kiss  me '  ;  and  five  minutes  later  chill  him 


Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife      171 

with  a  laugh  that  as  good  as  told  him  he 
must  be  blind  not  to  see  that  she  was  merely 
playing  with  him.  What  happened  outside 
the  Cafe  —  for  now  and  then  she  would  let 
him  meet  her  of  a  morning  in  the  Tuileries 
and  walk  down  to  the  Cafe  with  her,  and 
once  or  twice  had  allowed  him  to  see  her 
part  of  the  way  home  —  I  cannot  tell  you  : 
I  only  know  that  before  strangers  it  was 
her  instinct  to  be  reserved.  I  take  it  that 
on  such  occasions  his  experiences  were  inter- 
esting ;  but  whether  they  left  him  elated  or 
depressed  I  doubt  if  he  could  have  told  you 
himself. 

"  But  all  the  time  Marie  herself  was  just 
going  from  bad  to  worse.  She  had  come  to 
the  Cafe  a  light-hearted,  sweet-tempered 
girl;  now,  when  she  was  n't  engaged  in  her 
play-acting  —  for  that 's  all  it  was,  I  could 
see  plainly  enough  —  she  would  go  about 


172     Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife 

her  work  silent  and  miserable-looking,  or  if 
she  spoke  at  all  it  would  be  to  say  some- 
thing bitter.  Then  one  morning  after  a 
holiday  she  had  asked  for,  and  which  I 
had  given  her  without  any  questions,  she 
came  to  business  more  like  her  old  self 
than  I  had  seen  her  since  the  afternoon 
Master  Tom  Sleight  had  appeared  upon 
the  scene.  All  that  day  she  went  about 
smihng  to  herself;  and  yomig  Flammard, 
presuming  a  bit  too  far  maybe  upon  past 
favours,  found  himself  sharply  snubbed: 
it  was  a  bit  rough  on  him,  the  whole 
thing. 

"  *  It  *s  come  to  a  head,'  says  I  to  myself  ; 
'he  has  explained  every thmg,  and  has 
managed  to  satisfy  her.  He's  a  cleverer 
chap  than  I  took  him  for.' 

"  He  did  n't  turn  up  at  the  Caf^  that 
day,  however,  at  all,  and  she   never  said 


Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife      173 

a  word  until  closing  time,  when  she  asked 
me  to  walk  part  of  the  way  home  with 
her. 

"  ^  Well/  I  says,  so  soon  as  we  had 
reached  a  quieter  street,  *is  the  comedy 
over  ? ' 

"  *  No/  says  she,  '^  so  far  as  I  'm  con- 
cerned it's  commenced.  To  tell  you  the 
truth,  it 's  been  a  bit  too  serious  up  to 
now  to  please  me.  I  'm  only  just  begin- 
ning to  enjoy  myself,'  and  she  laughed, 
quite  her  old  light-hearted  laugh. 

"  *  You  seem  to  be  a  bit  more  cheerful,' 
I  says. 

"  *  I  'm  feeling  it,'  says  she ;  Mie  's  not 
as  bad  as  I  thought.  We  went  to  Ver- 
sailles yesterday.' 

"  *  Pretty  place,  Versailles,'  says  I ; 
'paths  a  bit  complicated  if  you  don't 
know  your  way  among  'em.' 


174     Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife 

"  ^  They  do  wind,'  says  she.  . 

"  '  And  there  he  told  you  that  he  loved 
you,  and  explained  everything  ? ' 

^**  You're  quite  right,'  says  she,  'that's 
just  what  happened.  And  then  he  kissed 
me  for  the  first  and  last  time,  and  now 
he  's  on  his  way  to  America.' 

"  '  On  his  way  to  America  ? '  says  I, 
stopping  still  in  the  middle  of  the  street. 

"  '  To  find  his  wife,'  she  says.  '  He 's 
pretty  well  ashamed  of  himself  for  not 
having  tried  to  do  it  before.  I  gave  him 
one  or  two  hints  how  to  set  about  it  — 
he 's  not  over  smart  —  and  I  've  got  an 
idea  he  will  discover  her.'  She  dropped 
her  joking  manner,  and  gave  my  arm  a 
little  squeeze.  She  'd  have  flirted  with 
her  own  grandfather  —  that 's  my  opinion 
of  her. 

" '  He   was   really   nice,*  she   continues. 


Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife      175 

*  I  had  to  keep  lecturing  myself,  or  I  'd 
have  been  sorry  for  him.  He  told  me  it 
was  his  love  for  me  that  had  shown  him 
what  a  wretch  he  had  been.  He  said  he 
knew  I  did  n't  care  for  him  two  straws  — 
and  there  I  did  n't  contradict  him  —  and 
that  he  respected  me  all  the  more  for  it. 
I  can't  explain  to  you  how  he  worked  it 
out,  but  what  he  meant  was  that  I  was  so 
good  myself  that  no  one  but  a  thoroughly 
good  fellow  could  possibly  have  any  chance 
with  me,  and  that  any  other  sort  of  fellow 
ought  to  ashamed  of  himself  for  daring 
even  to  be  in  love  with  me,  and  that  he 
couldn't  rest  until  he  had  proved  to  him- 
self that  he  was  worthy  to  have  loved 
me,  and  then  he  was  n't  going  to  love 
me  any  more.* 

"  ^  It 's   a  bit   complicated,'  says   I.     '  I 
suppose  you  understood  it?' 


176     Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife 


cc 


'It  was  perfectly  plain/  says  she 
somewhat  shortly,  '  and,  as  I  told  him, 
made  me  really  like  him  for  the  first 
time/ 

" '  It  did  n't  occur  to  him  to  ask  you 
why  you  had  been  flirting  like  a  volcano 
with  a  chap  you  did  n't  like,'  says  I. 

"'He  didn't  refer  to  it  as  flirtation,* 
says  she.  '  He  regarded  it  as  kindness 
to  a  lonely  man  in  a  strange  land.' 

" '  I  think  you  '11  be  all  right,'  says  I. 
'  There  's  all  the  makings  of  a  good  hus- 
band in  him  —  seems  to  be  simple-minded 
enough,  anyhow.' 

"  *  He  has  a  very  lovable  personality 
when  you  once  know  him,'  says  she. 
*  All  sailors  are  apt  to  be  thoughtless.' 

" '  I  should  try  and  break  him  of  it 
later  on,'  says  I. 

" '  Besides,  she  was  a  bit  of  a  fool  her- 


Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife      i  jj 

self,  going  away  and  leaving  no  address/ 
adds  she ;  and  having  reached  her  turn- 
ing, we  said  good-night  to  one  another. 

"  About  a  month  passed  after  that  with- 
out anything  happening.  For  the  first 
week  Marie  was  as  merry  as  a  kitten, 
but  as  the  days  went  by,  and  no  sign 
came,  she  grew  restless  and  excited.  Then 
one  morning  she  came  into  the  Cafe 
twice  as  important  as  she  had  gone  out 
the  night  before,  and  I  could  see  by  her 
face  that  her  little  venture  was  panning 
out  successfully.  She  waited  till  we  had 
the  Cafe  to  ourselves,  which  usually  hap- 
pened about  mid-day,  and  then  she  took 
a  letter  out  of  her  pocket  and  showed  it 
me.  It  was  a  nice  respectful  letter  con- 
taining sentiments  that  would  have  done 
honour  to  a  churchwarden.  Thanks  to 
Marie's    suggestions,    for   which    he   could 


178     Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife 

never  be  sufficiently  grateful,  and  which 
proved  her  to  be  as  wise  as  she  was 
good  and  beautiful,  he  had  traced  Mrs. 
Sleight,  nee  Mary  Godselle,  to  Quebec. 
From  Quebec,  on  the  death  of  her  uncle, 
she  had  left  to  take  a  situation  as  wait- 
ress in  a  New  York  hotel,  and  he  was 
now  on  his  way  there  to  continue  his 
search.  The  result  he  would,  with  Miss 
Marie's  permission,  write  and  inform  her. 
If  he  obtained  happiness  he  would  owe 
it  all  to  her.  She  it  was  who  had  shown 
him  his  duty;  there  was  a  good  deal  of 
it,  but  that's  what  it  meant. 

"  A  week  later  came  another  letter, 
dated  from  New  York  this  time.  Mary 
could  not  be  discovered  anywhere ;  her 
situation  she  had  loft  just  two  years 
ago,  but  for  what  or  for  where  nobody 
seemed  to  know.     What  was  to  be  done? 


Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife      1 79 

"  Mam'sel  Marie  sat  down  and  wrote 
him  by  return  of  post,  and  wrote  him 
somewhat  sharply  —  in  broken  English. 
It  seemed  to  her  he  must  be  strangely 
lacking  in  intelligence.  Mary,  as  he  knew, 
spoke  French  as  well  as  she  did  English. 
Such  girls  —  especially  such  waitresses 
—  he  might  know,  were  sought  after  on 
the  Continent.  Very  possibly  there  were 
agencies  in  New  York  whose  business  it 
was  to  offer  good  Continental  engage- 
ments to  such  young  ladies.  Even  she 
herself  had  heard  of  one  such  —  Brath- 
waite,  in  West  Twenty-third  Street,  or 
maybe  Twenty-fourth.  She  signed  her 
new  name,  Marie  Luthier,  and  added  a 
P.S.  to  the  effect  that  a  right-feeling 
husband  who  could  n't  find  his  wife 
would  have  written  in  a  tone  less  sug- 
gestive  of   resignation. 


i8o     Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife 


a 


That  helped  him  considerably,  that 
suggestion  of  Marie's  about  the  agent 
Brathwaite.  A  fortnight  later  came  a 
tliird  letter.  Wonderful  to  relate,  his 
wife  was  actually  in  Paris,  of  all  places 
in  the  world !  She  had  taken  a  situation 
in  the  Hotel  du  Louvre.  Master  Tom 
expected  to  be  in  Paris  almost  as  soon 
as   his   letter. 

"  '  I  think  I  '11  go  round  to  the  Louvre 
if  you  can  spare  me  for  quarter  of  an 
hour,'  said  Marie,  'and  see  the  manager.' 

"  Two  days  after,  at  one  o'clock  pre- 
cisely, Mr.  Tom  Sleight  walked  into  the 
Cafe.  He  did  n't  look  cheerful  and  he 
did  n't  look  sad.  He  had  been  to  the 
'  Louvre ' ;  Mary  Godselle  had  left  there 
al)out  a  year  ago  ;  but  he  had  obtained  her 
address  in  Paris,  and  liad  received  a  letter 
from  her  that  very  morning.     He  showed 


Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife      1 8 1 


it  to  Marie.  It  was  short,  and  not  well 
written.  She  would  meet  him  in  the 
Tuileries  that  evening  at  seven,  by  the 
Diana  and  the  Nymph;  he  would  know 
her  by  her  wearing  the  onyx  brooch  he 
had  given  her  the  day  before  their  wed- 
ding. She  mentioned  it  was  onyx,  in  case 
he  had  forgotten.  He  only  stopped  a  few 
minutes,  and  both  he  and  Marie  spoke 
gravely  and  in  low  tones.  He  left  a  small 
case  in  her  hands  at  parting;  he  said  he 
hoped  she  would  wear  it  in  remembrance 
of  one  in  whose  thoughts  she  would 
always  remain  enshrined.  I  can't  tell  you 
what  he  meant ;  I  only  tell  you  what 
he  said.  He  also  gave  me  a  very  hand- 
some walking-stick  with  a  gold  handle  — 
what  for,  I  don't  know ;  I  take  it  he  felt 
like  that. 

"  Marie  asked  to  leave  that  evening  at 


1 82     Wooing  of  Tom  Sleight's  Wife 

half-past  six.  I  never  saw  her  looking 
prettier.  She  called  me  into  the  office 
before  she  went.  She  wanted  my  advice. 
She  had  in  one  hand  a  beautiful  opal 
brooch  set  in  diamonds  —  it  was  what  he 
had  given  her  that  morning  —  and  in  her 
other  hand  the  one  of  onyx. 

"  ^  Shall  I  wear  them  both  ? '  asked  she, 
'or  only  the  one?'  She  was  half  laugh- 
iag,  half  crying,  already. 

"I  thought  for  a  bit.  'I  should  wear 
the  onyx  to-night,'  I  said,  '  by  itself.' " 


THE   END 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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